The Three Musketeers and the Duke's Treasure
by rembeau
Summary: Set three/four years before the TV series, Athos and his two comrades, Aramis and Porthos, encounter a complication to their already hectic lives. Will this turn out to be helpful, or merely a hinderance, and can anyone work out what the Duke's Treasure is before it's too late? (I am SO bad at summaries it's seriously unfunny). Rated M for safety only, K would probably be fine.
1. Prologue

He made his way quietly down the dark street, hugging the shadows of the walls. This part of Paris wasn't brightly lit, and it was late at night, so most of the windows were shuttered, as much against the cold air as the darkness. Only a few streaks of light escaped, but they were so faint and few in number that the darkness quickly overpowered them.

Halfway down the street, he stopped and listened. He could vaguely hear an argument from one side of the street, and a baby crying nearby. A dog was whining a few doors down. All the normal city sounds he'd expect to hear. He rubbed his hands together quickly, to warm his fingers.

He turned down a narrow alleyway. The houses here were so close together that if there had been windows, people could have opened their windows, reached out, and shook hands with the people opposite. He started to run, and jumped onto a pile of crates, launching himself at the left wall, planting his left foot on the wall, pushing upwards and towards the right wall. He planted his right foot on the wall and pushed upwards, back to the left wall, using his hands to balance, planting his left foot and his left hand. He pushed and twisted and launched himself at the right wall, grabbing the edge of the roof and pulling himself up.

It had taken a few seconds to literally run up the walls and onto the roof. He paused to listen and to get his breath back. The baby was still crying, the dog was still whining, and the argument was still raging. He scrambled up to the apex of the roof and quickly made his way along it, his feet barely making a sound.

A sudden, powerful gust of wind made him stop and wait, moving his arms around to keep his balance. When the wind died down, he carried on. At the end of the street was a house that rose above the rest. He nimbly climbed up the wall to a small shuttered window, jamming his toes in a crack in the wall, and hanging onto the ledge under the window with one hand. He used his free hand to prise his knife carefully up behind the shutter, searching for the latch. He grinned as he found it, and flicked it over with a deft movement of his wrist, swinging one shutter open wide. There were no signs of alarm from within, so he pulled himself up and perched on the window ledge, listening intently, before slipping inside.

Inside the house was even darker than the street outside, though thankfully warmer. He felt more than saw his was way along the corridor and down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. A particularly noisy creaking floorboard made him stop dead in his tracks, holding his breath, but the house remained silent.

He made it down to the ground floor and paused. His eyes could just make out a table and chairs, and then a door beyond them. He picked his way past them and slid the door latches back, wincing as one of them groaned. He swung the door open, and peered out into the street. It looked deserted. He whistled quietly. Some of the shadows moved, and four dark shapes headed his way. He stepped outside as three of the shapes entered the house. The fourth man paused long enough to slide some coins into his hand, the mans breath hanging like smoke in the air above his head.

"Good job, boy. Quick, quiet and efficient. Come see me and I'll put some more jobs your way. Or I'll come and see you at the stables. Tell Donovan I'll be round with his cut tomorrow." The fourth figure slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

The boy grinned, as he heard a loud crashing noise and some swearing from inside, as one of the men didn't quite manage to avoid the furniture in the darkness, and set off at a run into the heart of the city.


	2. Chapter 1

Remy clambered up onto the roof, clinging to almost invisible hand and footholds in the wall with ease. He scrambled up to the apex of the roof, spotted a courtyard below, and slid down quickly so that he wasn't silhouetted against the pale grey sky above the roofline. He lodged himself into an edge where the roof met with a higher wall, one leg swinging over the edge of the roof and the other tucked up with his foot in the drain channel to keep him on the roof. A quick glance around reassured him that no-one had spotted him.

He looked around the courtyard. It was pretty much like any large hotel courtyard, with tables and benches dotted around the edges, and a stable full of horses to one side. The main difference was, this hotel seemed to only serve soldiers. Some were practising sword fighting in pairs, some were cleaning their muskets and pistols, others were sat idly talking and watching their comrades. He grinned as he watched a trio spar, taking it in turns to be outnumbered, admiring the strength of the larger soldier, the speed and grace of the smaller man, and the ease with which the third out paced them both, without once showing off.

After a while, he moved away, leaving the other two to spar. The bigger man tried using his strength to gain the upper hand, but his friend was ready for him, side stepping nimbly and flicking his wrist, causing his sword to dart back towards his opponent, who merely laughed and actually batted the sword away with his arm. Remy watched them, mesmerised. He totally lost track of the third man, until he felt someone grab his ankle and pull.

His perch on the roof had been somewhat precarious and he tumbled from the roof, automatically throwing himself sideways to escape the outstretched arms, twisting cat like to land in a crouched position on his feet, albeit slightly awkwardly. He yelped in pain and shifted his weight to onto the ankle that didn't hurt, poised ready to fight or run. However, instead of an angry soldier ready to yell at him, or worse, all he looked up at was the third soldier, who had a look of concern on his face, and a hand stretched out towards Remy.

Remy instinctively took half a step backwards, away from the man, but instead of making a grab for him, he merely held his hands up in mock surrender.

"I didn't mean for you to fall that far. Are you alright?"

He seemed to be genuinely concerned. Remy straightened up, still shifting his weight to his right leg, and nodded, as he glanced around to check for an escape route. No one seemed to be paying them any attention, except for the two soldiers he'd been watching. They were just stood watching, with slightly amused expressions. There was a clear escape route out of the courtyard, although Remy wasn't sure he could run on his left ankle at the moment. The man who had pulled him from the roof had still made no move towards him.

"Hurt your ankle?"

The man had obviously noted he was shifting his weight to one foot. Remy risked another slight nod. Normally he wouldn't have admitted being injured to a stranger, especially if there was any chance he'd need to make a run for it, but this man didn't seem to be threatening. For some reason that Remy couldn't even begin to explain, he trusted him. The man held his hand out towards Remy again.

"Let my friend take a look. He's got some experience with injuries. Granted, usually cuts, but I'm sure he can help."

"I don't like physicians."

"He isn't a physician." The man lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Actually, he's better than most physicians I've had the misfortune to meet, but don't tell him I said that."

Remy hesitated only slightly, before taking his hand and allowing the man to partially support his weight as he led him across the courtyard to the other two men.

"I'm Athos, by the way. That's Porthos." The biggest of the three men nodded a greeting with a toothy grin. "And the worried looking one is Aramis."

Aramis was indeed looking worried. Remy sat down and allowed Aramis to check his ankle, wincing a couple of times. It was already beginning to hurt a little less, but running was probably not going to be something he should try for a little while.

"Doesn't seem to be broken. I think you just jarred it when you landed. Maybe avoid falling off roofs for a few days though." Aramis winked at Remy and threw an accusing look at Athos, who merely shrugged.

"I was supposed to catch him, but he wasn't very co-operative."

Remy grinned a little sheepishly. Athos sat down beside him.

"So, what's your name, boy?"

"Remy."

"Do you often watch from roofs, Remy?"

Remy shrugged. "Guess so. Unless people yell at me or something. Safer up there, out of the way. Usually."

Athos chuckled. "I was trying to catch you."

A whistle from Porthos made Remy look round, just in time to catch the apple that was thrown at him. He looked at Porthos questioningly, but the dark skinned man just grinned and threw apples to Athos and Aramis, before taking a large bite from his own. Remy looked at the apple, then at Athos, who was busy chewing the fruit, before finally succumbing to the growling from his stomach and biting into the apple. He made short work of it, oblivious of the looks exchanged between the three men. Athos finished his apple and deftly threw the core into a basket to the left of the seat. Porthos swiftly followed. Aramis shook his head.

"No finesse."

"You'll miss," grinned Porthos.

Aramis sighed. "I am further away than you."

"Excuses." Porthos winked at Remy. "He's a terrible shot."

Aramis shook his head and tossed the apple core high into the air. They all watched as it fell back down, catching the very edge of the basket and briefly tottering before falling in. Porthos groaned.

"Lucky shot."

"Not luck, my friend. Skill. Pure skill."

"Care to show your skill with a sword instead?"

"Always."

Both men looked to Athos, who smiled and shook his head. "You two sort this out. I'll take the winner."

Porthos and Aramis headed to the centre of the courtyard, flexing their arms and trading minor insults in jest. Remy grinned, watching them, and threw his own apple core into the basket with barely a glance.

Athos raised his eyebrows slightly. "Good shot."

Remy was so engrossed watching the three men practise, that he completely lost track of time. It was only when the church bells rang for four o'clock that he realised how long he'd been there. And that he was late. He swore under his breath and half ran, half limped from the courtyard without a backward look. Athos paused mid parry and stepped backwards to avoid Aramis's attack.

Aramis followed his gaze. "Looks like our young friend is late for something."

"Hmmm."


	3. Chapter 2

Remy swung his slim pack over his shoulder and swung himself up onto the roof. The roof was a little slippery with early morning frost, but he nimbly clambered up to the top of the roof and peeked over. The courtyard was empty, except for the stable hand, who was cleaning out the stables. He slid down towards the edge, jammed his pack safely in a gap, and settled in, making sure that he didn't dangle a leg over the edge this time. The early morning sun wasn't exactly warm, but at least he was sheltered from the breeze. It was a good vantage point. As long as the rain held off anyway.

Athos strode into the courtyard, glanced around, and then settled himself down on a bench to one side. Porthos joined him a few moments later, yawning and stretching his arms way above his head. He handed a boule of bread to Athos and took a large bite out of his own. Athos broke his in half and looked up to the roof to where Remy was perched. Remy was somewhat startled as he hadn't realised Athos knew he was there.

Athos held half the boule up. "I'm not throwing it up there."

Remy thought for a second, but the grumbling from his stomach quelled any doubts. He slid to the edge and deftly swung himself over, before dropping the rest of the way to the floor, landing in a crouch. He scampered over to Athos. Porthos slid down the bench to make room for him and he sat down, taking the offered bread.

"Thanks."

They ate quietly. Only when they'd finished eating did Athos grab Remy firmly by the chin, tilting his head back to examine his black eye. Remy didn't make any attempt to pull away.

"Was that for being late," asked Athos.

Remy winced as Athos gently ran his fingers around his eye. "Something like that."

Porthos frowned. "You need a new job, boy."

Remy half grinned. "I know."

"So where do you work?"

"Here and there."

"Doing what?"

"This and that."

Athos and Porthos exchanged looks. Athos stood up and walked across the courtyard, ducking through a doorway. Remy rubbed his eye a little.

"Leave it alone," growled Porthos.

Athos was soon back with a cloth, a small jar and a bowl of water. "Aramis is away, so you'll have to settle for me patching you up." He chuckled at the look of doubt on Remy's face. "Or you could let Porthos take a look."

"I can do that. I have a sharp knife." He laughed as Remy edged slightly away from him. "Better let Athos do it then."

Athos tipped Remy's head back, poured some of the liquid from the small jar onto the cloth, and gently placed it on Remy's eye.

"Ow, that stings." Remy tried to pull away, but Porthos had a firm grip on him.

"Hold still," said Athos. "It will sting a bit, but it will help bring out the bruise and make it heal quicker."

Remy squirmed, but did his best to stay still and let Athos dab at his eye. He dipped the cloth in the bowl and placed it back on Remy's eye.

"Hold that there." Athos made sure Remy was holding the cloth in place, before he headed back across the courtyard.

Porthos released his tight grip on him and ruffled his hair. Remy managed to sit still for a few minutes before he began to fidget.

"How long do I have to hold this on my eye?"

Porthos chuckled. "Until Athos tells you to let go."

Remy sighed deeply, but kept the cloth held in place. Porthos ruffled his hair again as Athos returned.

"Alright. Let me see."

Remy let go of the cloth and Athos inspected his eye, before deftly wiping Remy's face clean with a fresh cloth. Remy grumbled a little, but didn't try to escape his ministrations.

"You'll live," proclaimed Athos.

Remy grinned. "Thanks."

"So, do you have to be at work at a certain time today?"

Remy shook his head. "No. No work today. Unless I go find some." He looked slightly thoughtful.

"Well, how about I find you some work here instead?" Athos settled back down onto the bench beside Remy, who swivelled to glare at him suspiciously.

"Here?"

Athos closed his eyes and leant back. "Yes. Here. Unless you have something better in mind."

"No. No, here's fine."

"Good. Jasper needs a hand. The stable boy failed to turn up. I assume you're alright working with horses."

"Yes. I like horses."

"Fine. Well, go help Jasper. Do what he tells you to do. I'll check on you later."

Remy eagerly ran across the courtyard to speak to the stable hand.

Porthos grinned as he watched him go. "That should keep him out of trouble for a while."

"That was the idea."

Porthos sat in the glow of the fading winter afternoon sun, watching Remy carry buckets of water from the well to fill the water troughs around the courtyard. Athos dropped onto the bench beside him, polishing his sword.

"Has he stopped at all today?"

Porthos nodded. "Jasper made him stop for lunch. How does a boy that size, carry so much?"

Athos chuckled. "Sheer determination, probably. He's a feisty little one."

"Little is right. How old do you think he is?"

"Twelve." He laughed as Porthos shot him a suspicious look. "Yes, alright, I asked him. He says he's twelve, nearly thirteen. I thought younger from the size of him as well. I think he's done for the day. He's definitely tiring."

Remy had stopped to get his breath back. Carrying all that water was more tiring than it might seem, but he wasn't complaining. He liked horses, and Jasper was patient, easy going and friendly. He squeaked in surprise as Porthos grabbed him from behind and swung him easily over his shoulder.

"Hey. Gerrof. What the ..."

"Oh, stop squirming will you." Porthos adjusted his grip a little as Remy stopped squirming and looked pleadingly at Athos. Well, tried to look pleadingly at Athos, but it was a little tricky considering he was upside down over Porthos's shoulder.

"You're done for the day, boy." Athos nodded to Jasper, who smiled and carried on with his work.

Athos sauntered back to the bench and sat down, watching Porthos spin round, while Remy tried to squirm free. He looked round as Aramis and three other Musketeers rode into the courtyard. Aramis half clambered, half fell off his horse, and handed the reins to Jasper. He ambled wearily across the courtyard and dropped on the bench beside Athos with a heartfelt groan and rubbed his leg.

"Bad trip?" Athos regarded the younger man appraisingly, taking in the unusually dishevelled appearance and the newly repaired tear in his pants leg.

Aramis merely yawned and leant back against the wall. "A little more eventful than I'd have preferred."

"I take it you saw to your leg injury yourself."

Aramis shot him a sideways glance. "Yes. And it's fine, thank you. If it causes me a problem, I'll let you know, or see a physician."

Athos nodded and handed him a beaker of wine, which Aramis gratefully took. "How long has Remy had a black eye?"

"Turned up with it this morning. It's a couple of days old though."

"Ah. Late for work?"

"Apparently. Something like that."

"He needs a new job."

"Yes, he does. Porthos, put him down. Gently."

Porthos stopped mid spin and jokingly threatened to tip Remy from his precarious position across his shoulders. Remy was quick though, and swiftly wriggled around, squirming from Porthos's grasp and sliding to the floor. Aramis laughed as Porthos made a grab for Remy, only for Remy to dodge and twist and dance out of his reach. Porthos made another grab, and again Remy danced clear of his grasp. Athos whistled, and Remy risked a quick glance towards him, keeping out of Porthos's reach. Athos smiled and pointed to the seat beside him. Remy scampered over and sat down with a grin.

"You best grab your pack, boy." Athos looked pointedly up at the roof, where Remy had stored his pack at the start of the day.

Remy frowned, wondering how Athos had spotted it. "Harder to climb up from this side."

"Get Porthos to give you a lift up, if he's got his breath back yet."

Athos watched with a look of mild amusement as Porthos gave Remy a boost up onto the roof. Remy grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and then dropped back down off the roof, ignoring Porthos's offer of help.

"Determined, isn't he." Aramis smiled. "And very independent."

Remy sat down on the bench between Athos and Aramis. Porthos stood in front of them, shaking his head with a grin. "I wouldn't have dropped you, you know. Well, not on your head. Not on purpose."

Remy just grinned.

Athos held his hand up in a clenched fist and shook it. "I think you've earned this, Remy."

Remy held his hand out, though not too eagerly. Athos dropped the coin into it. Remy closed his hand around the coin with a grin.

"Thanks."

Athos ruffled his hair. "Come back tomorrow. We might have more work for you. No promises though. Lucas might be back."

Remy nodded. "Ok, I will."

He'd nearly reached the courtyard exit when Athos belatedly added, "And use the entrance, not the roof."


	4. Chapter 3

"Have you been doing what I told you?" Donovan swayed closer to Remy, who took a slight step away. In the cramped space that Donovan used for his office, there wasn't room to take anything bigger than a slight step. Remy could smell strong alcohol on the man's breath. "Has he told you his plans?"

"He hasn't told me anything."

"Killian must have told you his big plan. You're his favorite, you know that, don't you? Reckons you climb better than everyone else."

"Well, maybe he likes my climbing, but he hasn't told me anything. I turn up, he tells me what to do, that's it."

"You're hiding something."

"No, I'm not," protested Remy.

"I'll kill you. I've been meaning to kill you for weeks. Now, tell me, or say your prayers!"

Remy just glared back at him, knowing that when Donovan had been drinking as much as this, no answer was going to be the right one. "I already told you, he hasn't told me anything."

Donovan grabbed Remy's shoulders and slammed him up against the wall.

"You're lieing, boy."

He struck Remy hard across the face, drawing blood from his lip. A loud yell from outside made Donovan turn round. He let go of Remy and wobbled over to the window. "Killian! Well, if he wants your help, you're going to do exactly what he says, and you will find out what his big plan is. Do you understand me?"

Remy nodded, wiping the blood from his lip on his sleeve, and following Donovan into the yard.

"Donovan! There you are." Killian strode forwards to greet him, with a huge smile on his face. Killian was a huge man, and a huge smile on his face somehow suited him, but it rarely reached his eyes, which Remy always found unnerving. They shook hands energetically, and Killian handed Donovan a bottle. It was probably cheap, weak alcohol, but then, the way Donovan drank, it wouldn't last long enough for him to notice.

Donovan smiled at the bottle, and then at Killian. "You have my money? The boy did the job?"

Killian laughed. "Yes, I have your money, and some things I need to ... dispose of. And yes, the boy did his job, although it took him too long and he made more noise than I was happy with. I still prefer Remy. He's much quicker than the others."

Donovan nodded. "Yes, yes, but the others must learn, yes?"

"Yes, they must, but not on my time. You train them, I'll employ them." He looked over to where Remy was stood, half hidden in the shadows of the building, cautiously watching the two boys Killian had brought along.

"Come inside and we can discuss business and drink to success." Donovan waved the bottle in the air and the two men headed inside.

The two boys looked over to Remy and had a whispered discussion. Remy didn't like the way they kept looking at him, and had an urge to just leave, but Donovan would be mad at him. Well, madder than he already was. The taller of the two boys swaggered over, running his hands through his greasy black hair, presumably in an attempt to make himself look presentable. The attempt failed. His nose made a few too many detours on his face for him to manage presentable.

"So, you think you're good do you?"

Remy looked at him blankly. "What?"

"You. You think you're good, just because Killian mentions you all special like. We could do the job you know. I'm great at opening doors and windows, and Louis over there climbs like you wouldn't believe. We're going to be the ones he uses in future, not rented help from Donovan. He's just a drunk anyway. Got a big mouth Killian reckons. Can't tell him anything or the whole city would know what Killian was doing."

Remy scratched his head. "Really? You want the job? All yours. Seriously. I don't like the work anyway. Prefer horses."

Louis wandered over. "What did he just say, Antoine?"

Antoine scratched his head. "Dunno. I think he said he prefers to work for Donovan than Killian."

Louis frowned. "Why? Donovan drinks too much and is way too happy with his fists. And the pay is lousy. Killian pays better."

Remy had to admit, that was all true. However, working for Donovan rarely involved risking a fall from a high roof, or being arrested as a thief and thrown in jail. And Remy knew Killian could be just as free with a sideswipe to the head as Donovan, except, since he was generally sober, his aim was a lot better, and since he was bigger, it tended to hurt more.

Remy shrugged. "I'll put in a good word for you."

The smaller boy chuckled, while Antoine's eyes grew dark with anger. It was a look Remy had seen many times and recognised well. He shifted his weight a little, ready to hit low, hit hard and run like hell. It wasn't foolproof, but it worked more times than it failed. Antoine's fists balled tightly and he launched himself towards Remy, fists flailing trying to punch the smaller boy in the head. Remy ducked easily under the attempted punches, catching Antoine with a straight right to the midriff. Antoine coughed, gasped and doubled up with pain, crumpling to the ground. Louis stared at his friend, wondering how that had happened. Remy ran for the nearest stall, grabbed his pack, and left the stables as fast as his legs would carry him.

Donovan and Killian emerged from the office just as Louis was helping Antoine back to his feet.

"Wha th'ell?" Donovan's words were starting to slur a little.

Killian glared at the two boys. "Where's Remy?"

Louis turned a little pale. "He … he ran away."

"He did what?" roared Killian, his face turning red. He looked from Louis to Antoine. "You knew I wanted him for a job. Which of you started this?"

Louis stared at his feet unhappily. Antoine looked the man squarely in the eye. "He was no good. We don't need him, Come on, Killian, you know we don't. We can …" His words trailed off as he flew sideways under the force of the blow, hitting the floor in a crumpled heap. He cried out in pain and clutched his eye.

Killian dropped to one knee beside him, grabbing him by the throat. "Like picking on boys that are smaller then you, do you? Think that makes you tough, do you?"

Donovan shook his head. "No need for that, Killian."

Killian stared up at him, with a face completely devoid of emotion. "Don't tell me what there is and is not a need for. Not when you can't keep those boys of yours under control."

Donovan glared back at him, rapidly sobering up. "Like you keep yours under control?"

Killian snorted, but released Antoine, who scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath and cupping his eye, which was already starting to swell and close. Killian stood up, looked at Antoine, and then at Louis. "Well, you two have been pestering me for your chance, and since you've managed to lose Remy, tonight it's your turn." He looked at both boys in turn, before jabbing Louis in the chest. "And since his eye is shut, you're doing the climbing." He poked Antoine in the chest. "And you better hope he does a damn good job, or I'm holding you to blame.

Louis was torn between shrinking backwards from the man in fear, and pushing his chest out in pride. Antoine groaned quietly.

The Musketeers looked down at the young body spread out on the ground in front of them, with its limbs at completely unnatural angles, and a pool of blood congealing around the head, staining the light dusting of freshly fallen snow. Aramis crossed himself, Porthos growled under his breath.

"About Remy's height and build," mused Aramis.

"Same blond hair as well," added Porthos, seeking out Athos's eyes for confirmation or denial of what they were all thinking.

Athos knelt down beside the body and gently turned the head, so he could take a look at the face. Or at the little that was recognisable anyway. He stood up, shaking his head. "Not Remy."

Porthos breathed a little easier. "Well, that's good."

"They said two bodies." Aramis was still looking unsettled.

Athos nodded grimly. "The other is further on."

They walked down the alleyway in silence. This time, the body was of a bigger boy, with black hair, a swollen black eye, and a nose that took a devious route down his face. His head was at a peculiar angle to his body, and there were livid red marks around his throat.

"A fight gone wrong?" asked Porthos.

Athos shook his head. "The smaller boy strangles the larger boy, then climbs up on the roof and throws himself off in remorse? I don't think that's particularly likely."

"Someone killed both boys?"

Again, Athos shook his head. "While I might believe that someone could kill two boys in such a close vicinity, I'm not sure I believe that they'd strangle one and go to all the effort of throwing the other from the roof."

"Perhaps … perhaps they threw the first boy from the roof and the second saw, and they strangled him to keep him silent?"

Athos inclined his head to one side. "Perhaps. But I still believe there are easier ways to kill a boy than to throw him off a roof."

"It snowed last night," Aramis was staring up at the roof above them. "And that roof looks a little on the steep side. Perhaps the smaller boy merely slipped from the roof?"

"Perhaps," agreed Athos. "Though I'd like to know what he was doing up on the roof. Maybe we should see if there's a way up there."

"I'm not clambering around on a slippery roof," grumbled Porthos.

Athos smiled wryly at that thought.

"And the bigger boy?" asked Aramis.

Athos sighed. "Strangled. From the imprints, I'd say by someone a lot bigger and stronger. We may never know what happened. I think we're leaving this one for the Reds to sort out. There were no thefts from this area last night, or anywhere else that I'm aware of, so this is probably none of our concern."

Aramis frowned at him. "So why did we come to check then?"

Athos shrugged lightly, but Aramis caught the glance he shot towards the contorted smaller body.

Remy crept towards the bridge and whistled quietly. A small figure appeared out of the darkness and came towards him, cautiously.

"Remy?"

"Yes, Jamie. You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm just cold."

Remy hugged the smaller boy to him. "Come on, let's get under cover. I think it's going to snow again soon."

The boys settled into the damp darkness under the bridge as the snow started. Large snowflakes, that drifted and settled all around, even encroaching under the bridge. Remy pulled the threadbare blanket out of his pack and wrapped it around them both, handing Jamie a chunk of bread.

"Here, eat this."

Jamie took a bite, then turned his dark brown eyes to Remy. "Did you eat?"

Remy smiled at him. "Yes, Jamie. I ate mine on the way back. That's yours."

Jamie nodded, and hungrily devoured the bread, before snuggling into Remy for warmth. Remy wrapped an arm around him protectively, wedging his pack between his head and the cold stonework of the bridge.

Jamie yawned. "Not working tonight?"

Remy shook his head. "No, no more nights. I know it paid well, but the risks were too high, especially in this weather. Besides, who's going to look after you?" He playfully tickled the smaller boy, who giggled before snuggling in closer. Remy adjusted the knife in his right hand and closed his eyes. "We'll be ok, Jamie. I'll find work somewhere other than Donovan's."


	5. Chapter 4

The Musketeers were riding leisurely back to their barracks from the palace.

"I haven't seen Remy for a while," commented Aramis.

"Me either," said Porthos. "Hope he was alright with all that snow we had."

Athos said nothing, but Aramis noted the look of concern that briefly flitted across his face. They rode past some market stalls full of beets, cabbage, carrots, oranges, small trinkets, and some not particularly fresh fish, into a small square. At the far side was a throng of people and the familiar sounds of a brawl. Aramis raised himself up in the saddle to peer over the crowd.

"Just some kids."

As he spoke, one of the kids came flying backwards out of the throng with a bleeding nose, a look of confusion, and an angry hen flapping it's wings angrily and trying to peck him in the head. Athos peered past the boy, through the hole in the crowd he'd created, and groaned.

"Remy!"

Porthos laughed. "Should have guessed he'd be involved. Is he on the winning side?"

"Hard to tell. Ouch. He packs a hell of a punch for the size of him. Looks like he's trying to take on three of them all on his own."

"Think we should rescue him?" asked Aramis.

Athos winced. "If he's going to forget to duck like that again, then yes, we should."

As one, all three men spun their horses and rode towards the crowd, with Porthos whooping loudly to alert people to get out of the way. The crowd scattered quickly, with some of the would be combatants also deciding that fleeing was a good idea.

Remy ducked under the punch thrown by the boy he was currently facing, jabbing a straight right into the boy's ribs and causing him to gasp in pain. He heard the horse's hooves and glanced up, seeing the approaching Musketeers. The other boy followed his gaze and turned pale.

"Guards! Run!" He set off out of the market square at speed, with most of the other boys scrambling to follow his lead. Remy grabbed a small, dark haired boy out of the clutches of a much larger boy, said something in his ear, and sent him off with a shove. The larger boy seemed confused and angry that he'd lost his opponent, and decided that hitting Remy would be just as good. Aramis vaulted from his horse and grabbed him, dragging him backwards and preventing the wild swing from connecting with Remy's head. The boy briefly struggled to try and hit Aramis, and then seemed to realise what was happening and struggled to break free instead. Athos nodded almost imperceptibly to Aramis, who released the boy and watched him disappear quickly. In a few seconds, the only one left was Remy, who made no attempt to flee.

Athos looked down at him from his horse. "You do know you can get in trouble for fighting in a public place."

Remy shrugged. They gazed at each other for a while, Athos with his usual blank and unreadable expression, and Remy with a grim look of determination. Porthos and Aramis exchanged glances, and Aramis remounted his horse. It was Athos who broke the silence.

"Working today?"

Remy shook his head, ruefully, and looked around the now deserted market place. "Was supposed to be, but I have a feeling there won't much work to find here for the rest of day. Might try somewhere else."

Athos regarded him closely, taking in the fresh cut above his eye and the bruised knuckles. His lip looked as though it had been split fairly recently as well, although it was now fairly well healed. "Grab your pack."

Remy blinked a little, but obediently retrieved his pack from the side of the square where he'd left it, shifting it securely onto his shoulder. Athos held a hand down to him, which he took, and found himself swung easily up, settling onto the horse behind Athos. Athos gave him a couple of seconds to settle in, then turned his horse and headed back to the barracks, with Aramis and Porthos close behind him.

In the courtyard, Remy slid quickly from the horse and deftly took the reins as Athos dismounted. Porthos took the reins from Remy, and led all three horses over to Jasper, while Athos headed inside to report to the Captain. Remy was momentarily lost and unsure what to do, but Aramis grabbed him by the shoulder and led him to a bench, gently shoving him down onto it and cursorily inspecting the cut above his eye.

"Stay."

Remy fidgeted and wiped a trickle of blood from his face, but stayed put. Aramis returned with a cloth and a bowl. Remy almost managed to disguise the groan at the sight of them, but not quite.

Aramis chuckled. "This is getting to be a habit with you."

Remy shrugged and allowed Aramis to tilt his head backwards, wincing a little as he cleaned the cut.

"Not too bad. Should heal just fine." Aramis batted Remy's hand away as he reached up to inspect the cut with his fingers. "As long as you leave it alone anyway. You get into a lot of fights for a twelve year old."

"Thirteen," corrected Remy.

Aramis shook his head with a smile. "You get into a lot of fights for a thirteen year old."

"I don't mean to. It's not like I go looking for fights, but when they come my way ..."

Aramis chuckled.

Captain Treville was staring out of his window as Athos entered.

"How did it go?"

Athos managed a dismissive shrug, before realising the Captain had his back to him, rendering the gesture meaningless.

"As well as could be expected. The Duke is not happy, but we managed to allay his fears somewhat. Had there been any real threat to his welfare from the intruders, the injuries to his household would have been far worse. I would surmise that these were simply thieves who were interrupted and were seeking to escape the house as quickly as possible."

The Captain turned to face him. "Another theft? Was anything valuable taken?"

"Just trinkets as far as I could ascertain. They were somewhat vague with specific details. Since the King has offered them secure lodgings in the palace grounds and generous restitution for any loss, I would hesitate to rely on any accounts of exactly what went missing."

Treville nodded. "Still, another theft, and that's just the ones we've heard about. We seem to be having too many thefts lately, and no one seems to be able to work out how they're gaining entry."

Athos inclined his head to one side. "All the householders I have spoken to swear that their doors were locked, yet none of the doors have been forced or the locks broken. It's as though the doors were unlocked from the inside."

Treville sighed. "Well, keep asking around. Someone must know something. Is that the boy you had helping Jasper the other week?"

Athos glanced to the window and the courtyard below. "Remy. Yes, Sir."

"Jasper said he was a good worker, yet I can find no record that we paid him."

Athos smiled. "Technically, I employed him for the day, so I paid him."

Treville nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, Lucas has failed to turn up today. Perhaps he could help Jasper this afternoon. After lunch. I assume you're planning on feeding the boy." Athos shifted from one foot to the other as Treville chuckled. "Well, take him to the kitchens and get him fed. Then, if he has nothing better to do, he can help Jasper. And make sure I get a record of it this time please."

Remy was leant back on the bench, enjoying a break in the weak winter sun. Today they'd had no work for him at the barracks, as Lucas, the regular stable boy, had actually turned up for work, sniffing loudly and coughing a lot. Well, when he thought there was anyone within earshot anyway. Porthos had stored his pack safely for him in the armory, and a quick run down to the docks had found a couple of hours work running messages around town for some swanky merchant. Tiring work, but Remy had delivered all the messages quickly, so it had paid fairly well. He'd even managed to get Jamie a temporary job at the bakers down at the docks, which meant he'd be safe, warm, and fed for the week. Aramis was sat on one end of the bench, reading a book, while Porthos was sat on the other end, cleaning his musket.

No one seemed to mind him turning up here regularly, especially now he'd started using the proper entrance and not the roof. In fact, some of the Musketeers occasionally paid him to run an errand into town. Well, paid was putting it a bit strongly. Usually they paid him with food; some bread usually, a lump of cheese, or even fruit. Remy didn't mind, as long as they didn't mind him spending time in their courtyard. It was a lot safer that a lot of places he could have been, and when it rained, there was an overhang on the upper storeys, which meant it was also a lot drier that a lot of places as well.

Both Remy and Aramis looked up as the horse and rider clattered into the yard, both looking tired. The rider dismounted swiftly and looked around for someone to hand the reins to, but Jasper was busy dealing with a horse with a bad leg, and Lucas was nowhere in sight. He looked almost despairingly over to Aramis, obviously keen to leave the horse and report to the Captain. Aramis made a move to put his book down, but Remy was already on his feet.

"I'll see to it." A brief nod of consent from Aramis, and Remy deftly took the reins from the grateful rider.

"Keep him moving. I still have a fair way to go." The rider was halfway to the Captain's office before he finished speaking.

Remy spoke quietly to the horse and patted its neck. The horse nuzzled him and whinnied quietly. Remy led it forwards, keeping it moving slowly but steadily around the yard, pausing to let it drink at one of the troughs. The horse followed him docilely, snorting occasionally, seemingly in response to Remy's quiet murmurings. Porthos put his musket down and watched.

"He wasn't exaggerating when he said he likes horses."

Aramis smiled and nodded. "Seems like he knows how to handle them."

As the rider emerged from the barracks buildings, Remy turned the horse to face the exit and rubbed its nose gently. He handed the reins to the rider as he mounted quickly, and stepped back out of the way to allow a speedy exit. Captain Treville appeared in the doorway behind him, watching with interest.

"Remy."

Remy spun around, looking a little worried. Treville recognised the look and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, lad. You're not in trouble. Come here."

Remy walked over slowly, still with a look of apprehension on his face, stopping just out of reach of the Captain.

"I take it you like working with horses."

Remy nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Hmm. Well, you seem to know your way around them. Jasper tells me you're a good worker too."

Remy shrugged slightly.

"Well, I already have a full time stable boy, somewhere around here, but if you're ever in this courtyard, and Lucas and Jasper are busy, or nowhere in sight, you have my permission to tend to any horses that come in. You can keep whatever tips may come your way, although I have to warn you, my scouts won't even think about tipping. In fact, it's highly unlikely any visitors will think about tipping. However, if we need an extra pair of hands, and you happen to be here, you get first refusal of any work. Do we have a deal?"

Remy grinned broadly. "Deal, Sir. Thanks."


	6. Chapter 5

He looked down on the city from his perch way above on the parapet around the church spire, at all the ants running around the streets and alleys. At the horses speeding their riders around the city. At the carriages, forced to play follow my leader by the narrowness of the congested thoroughfares. A roll of the head from side to side, a stretch of the arms above his head, and a deep breath. He hadn't done this for a while, well not for fun anyway. He'd missed the feeling of freedom more than the adrenalin rush. He scanned the city, not sure what he was looking for. Maybe just pick a spot and head for it, just to prove he could. A disturbance outside a tavern caught his eye. Several soldiers spilled out into the street. Three against a dozen or so. As he was wondering if those odds were too high, a shout rang out, and more soldiers started to head that way. The outnumbered trio set off into the maze of alleyways, followed by a stampede of the other soldiers. Maybe he could help, but it had to be now or never. He ran to the edge of the parapet and jumped.

He landed on the flat roof below, knees bent, and threw himself into a forward roll before leaping upwards and vaulting the edge of the roof into apparent oblivion. He turned mid vault, grabbed the edge of the roof, and lowered himself down to a balustrade below. He ran along it, past open windows, ignoring the odd yell of surprise from within. He sped up as he neared the end, launching himself at the building on the opposite side of the alley, grabbing the fall pipe and sliding down it to ground level. He ran into the street, swerving to avoid an oncoming carriage, ignoring the angry cursing from the carriage driver. He ran as fast as he could down one street, swerving off down another, and diving down an apparent dead end.

He launched himself at the wall, grabbing the ledge of a bricked up window, pulling himself up. He turned around and leapt for the nearest roof, hauling himself up quickly. He looked around for the soldiers while he caught his breath, then he was off and running again, vaulting a chimney. He sprinted as he neared the edge, throwing himself across the alleyway to the next roof. A slight scramble, and he was off and running again. He veered towards the edge and peered over, searching out an open window, or one that could be opened quickly. He spotted one, and lowered himself over the edge of the roof, feeling for the window ledge with his feet. A quick fumble with his knife soon opened the shutters, and he was in. The trapdoor was easy to spot, and he charged down the rickety stairs, and stared at the door. Damn, it was locked, not bolted. He looked around frantically. Ah, there, on a nail in the wall. He grabbed the key and unlocked the door, stepping through quietly, while trying to get his breath back under control, hoping he was in time.

"This way."

Aramis charged down the alleyway, with Porthos close on his heels, and Athos lagging behind. They careered past a pile of boxes, with Athos having the presence of mind to pause send them scattering to the floor, partially blocking the alleyway and buying them a little extra time. All three men knew the Red Guards must be closing on them, and looked around for an escape route, or a place to hide.

"To the left." Athos pointed out the shadows on the left, and a second alleyway. He had no idea where it led, but it was probably a better bet than continuing down their current path.

This second alleyway was narrower than the first, and darker. Aramis once more led the way, with Athos bringing up the rear, more from the pain in his leg than anything else. The alleyway widened out, but there were no visible ways out other than straight forwards. They heard a yelling behind them and the pounding of footsteps.

"This isn't looking good," muttered Aramis.

From up ahead, there was a whistle. Aramis assumed a fighting stance, sword at the ready.

Remy stepped out of the darkness. "In here. Quick."

All three men hurried towards him, and stepped through a doorway into some kind of store room. Remy swung the door shut behind them, quickly locking the door and sliding the bolts into place. The three men stood still in the relative darkness. The only light in the room was drifting in from an open trapdoor, presumably from unshuttered windows above. Remy leant against the door, with his eye to a small crack in the planks. They heard the Red Guards run past, their feet thudding loudly, swearing and encouraging each other to catch the Musketeers. There was a slight pause, then more footsteps running past, fewer and slower this time, and accompanied by a lot of wheezing. Then all was silent.

Remy turned away from the door. "They've gone. Hopefully they won't double back and start checking doors, but these bolts should hold a casual check." The Musketeers looked around at the pile of sacks and boxes of varying sizes.

"What is this place?" asked Aramis.

"Er ... a storehouse?" guessed Remy, hoping they wouldn't ask any more questions.

Athos lowered himself onto a pile of sacking on the floor, with a groan. Porthos sat down heavily on a pile of crates and gingerly rubbed his head. Aramis looked from Athos to Porthos, and then to Remy.

"I don't suppose there are any bandages around here, Remy?" asked Aramis, crouching down beside Athos.

Remy shook his head. "No idea. Might be some cloth upstairs. I'll check." He nimbly clambered up the rickety staircase, disappeared from view, and returned quickly with a relatively clean piece of cloth. He handed it to Aramis. "Will this do?"

"Perfect, thank you, Remy. Alright, Athos, let me see the damage."

Athos moved a little to let the younger man see the deep laceration that was bleeding steadily, and winced as Aramis gently touched it.

"We need to get back to the barracks. Athos's leg needs stitching, and Porthos's head needs some attention."

Athos nodded. "I'm not about to dispute that, however, my leg won't carry me too far, or too quickly, Porthos doesn't look like he knows what day it is, and the Red Guards are still out there somewhere, probably still searching for us. Any other suggestions?"

"I'll go back to the barracks and bring help," said Aramis.

Athos tilted his head to one side, thinking. "And if the Red Guards catch up to you, what chance would you have on your own? We were struggling when there were three of us."

Porthos groaned and closed his eyes.

"I could go." Athos and Aramis turned to look at Remy. He shrugged. "I can leave by the window. The guards aren't looking for me anyway."

Athos frowned. "That might work. Go straight to Treville, but keep an eye out for the guards. They've got a taste for blood."

Remy grinned and headed back up the stairs. Aramis waited until he was sure Remy had gone, before crossing to the door and peering through the crack.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to let Remy go for help?" he asked.

Athos shrugged and leant back against the wall. "It's the only idea we had. He's resourceful, he'll be fine." He flinched as Aramis returned and carefully bandaged his wound.

Porthos groaned at the throbbing in his head. "I feel like I've been hit with a carriage."

"More like a chair," said Athos, wryly.

Aramis peered over his shoulder at Porthos with concern clearly etched on his face. "Just hang on a minute and I'll make sure you didn't lose what little sense you had left."

Satisfied with his temporary work, Aramis patted Athos on the leg before crossing the room to Porthos, who hissed as Aramis touched his face. "Badly bruised, but I don't think there are any fractures. It shouldn't affect your good looks. Then again, you didn't have any to start with."

"Why do you always get nasty when you're worried?"

"I do not get nasty. Gentlemen do not get nasty."

"You? A gentleman?"

Aramis raised his eyebrows. "You'd do well to remember that my hands are very close to your aching head right about now."

Porthos looked over at Athos. "See … nasty."

"He didn't deny being worried though," smirked Athos.

"You'd get nasty too if you spent all your time having to patch up your friends," scoffed Aramis, as he peered into Porthos's eyes and frowned.

"You just admitted to getting nasty."

"You're delusional. I blame the concussion."

"What concussion?"

"The one I think you may have. How did that all start anyway?"

Athos shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure. Porthos was playing cards."

"Ah."

Porthos frowned at Aramis. "What do you mean? Ah?"

"I mean, you were playing cards and a fight started. Now I understand."

Porthos was having problems thinking straight, as his head was pounding so hard that thinking actually hurt. "I remember a chair bouncing off my head."

Athos half smiled. "More like three chairs."

"Ah. So that's why my head hurts."

"Three chairs? Well I always said you had a hard head." Aramis grinned mischievously at the big man.

Porthos attempted to glare at Aramis, and groaned as it simply made his head hurt more. "Wait until there's only one of you to hit, and we'll discuss this again."

Aramis frowned and went back to the door, peering out of the crack. His sigh of relief was audible. "Treville, with a cart and reinforcements. Well done, Remy."

Remy sat next to Athos on the bench, watching him clean his musket and trying to remember the names of all the parts as Athos explained what he was doing. The horse and rider trotted into the yard and the man looked around for someone to take the reins. He was a tall, well dressed man, with a sharp nose and an expensive looking hat perched at a slightly ridiculous angle on his head. His horse was similarly well turned out.

"Lucas is in town on an errand for Jasper, so you're up, Remy."

Remy nodded and approached the horse steadily, taking the reins firmly. The horse stood perfectly still as his rider dismounted. The man patted the horse's flanks. "Watch him for me. I'll only be a few minutes. Where's Captain Treville?"

"In his office, Sir." Remy indicated the building with his free hand. The man strode off purposefully. Remy walked the horse back and forth a little, before pausing to let it drink. When he saw the man exiting the building, with the Captain by his side, Remy positioned the horse correctly and waited patiently, muttering quietly to the horse.

"New stable boy, Treville?"

The Captain shook his head. "Not officially. Remy just helps out."

"Shame. He's an improvement on your last one. Just needs tidying up a bit."

Athos stifled a chuckle, thankful that Remy was out of earshot. The man strode forwards and swung up onto the horse as Remy held it perfectly still.

"Thanks, boy." The man threw a coin at Remy, who caught it deftly, as he released the reins. The man waved his hand as a parting gesture to the Captain and rode out, leaving Remy staring at the coin in his hand. He sat back down next to Athos and placed the coin on the bench.

Treville smiled. "I told you, Remy, you get to keep tips."

Remy glanced at Athos, still looking doubtful.

Athos chuckled. "Pocket it before Porthos appears, or you'll never see it again."

Porthos emerged from the armory behind them. "See what?"

Remy pocketed the coin quickly, as Treville and Athos laughed. Porthos scratched his head, wondering what he'd missed.


	7. Chapter 6

"Why do I have to do this?" asked Jamie for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

Remy smiled patiently at the smaller boy walking beside him. "Because I'm not doing such a good job of looking out for you. Too many fights, not enough work to feed us both, plus you got me really worried when you got sick. It's too cold on the streets for you. You need a home. You like Ferrer don't you?"

Jamie nodded. "Yes. He's patient and he doesn't yell."

"And his wife likes you."

"Yes, she's ok as well, She gives me food whenever we go there."

"And you like Phillipe."

Jamie grinned. "He's ok. He follows me around and tries to help, even though he's too small."

Remy grinned. "What, like you do with me?"

Jamie stuck his tongue out at the blond haired boy. They both took evasive action as a horse came careering towards them, with its rider desperately trying to get it back under control.

"Right. Well, Phillipe is still way too young to help his father, but you're just about big enough. And you're good with horses. You just need to grow a bit."

"Hey!"

Remy grinned and ruffled his hair. "You like them, they like you. Ferrer needs a helper, and you need a job. Preferably one that puts a roof over your head and feeds you. And no, working for Donovan is not an option. Not having you working there. I'm trying to keep you safe, not get you killed. And the Court of Miracles isn't a solution either."

He frowned, wondering once again if it might work, but he knew in his heart that it wouldn't. Even in the short time he'd been in Paris, he'd seen what the Court could do to people. Too many people went into the Court and never came back out again. Not as the same people anyway. It seemed to suck the life out of some people, leaving them broken and empty, and still without a decent home or enough food. Or, more importantly, any real hope of a better life. Granted, some seemed to come out the other side the better for the chances the Court offered, but it was still a last resort as far as Remy was concerned. He wanted something better for Jamie.

"Well, why can't you work for Ferrer?"

"He doesn't need two helpers, and besides, his wife hates me, remember. She thinks I'm a bad influence on you, and that black eye of yours isn't going to help."

Jamie rubbed his eye. "Maybe I don't like her after all."

Remy laughed. "Don't be silly. Ok, nearly there." He stopped and turned the younger boy to him, wiping a smudge off his face with his thumb. "There. Nearly presentable. Apart from the black eye anyway. Now, remember what I've told you."

Jamie nodded. "Stay out of fights. Do what I'm told. Work hard. And you'll come see me when you can."

Remy grinned. "Good boy."

Remy hugged Jamie tightly, then gave him a little push into the blacksmiths yard. He watched from the entrance as the smith checked Jamie's black eye and frowned. The man looked towards the entrance. Remy shrugged at him, and Ferrer nodded. Remy stepped backwards into the shadows, although he could still see the yard. Ferrer's wife came out and made a big fuss of the boy, taking him inside with her. Remy felt a little sad at the loss of his young companion, but satisfied that he'd found the boy a good place to stay.

-o-o-o-

Remy had watched the stables for a couple of days now, in between keeping an eye on Jamie and running errands down at the docks. Jamie was doing well, working hard, and improving with the horses. Remy wasn't doing quite as well. A couple of times he'd ended up in a minor scrap with some of Killian's boys, although he'd come out on the winning side. Money was a problem though. Fresh snow falls had frozen him to the bone and stopped him finding work for a few days, and work was still proving hard to find. None of the stables had wanted anything to do with him. The better stables needed someone to vouch for him. The lower level stables wanted a reference, and the couple of times he'd mentioned that he'd worked for Donovan had ended the conversation abruptly. He wasn't sure if that was Donovan's reputation, or that Donovan had put the word out not to employ him. He sighed and stowed his pack on a nearby roof out of sight, before strolling into the stable yard. Donovan was stood in the middle of the yard, looking over a couple of horses.

"Remy! Where have you been, boy? What do you think of these horses? Worth three livres each?"

Remy edged closer to Donovan and the horses, looking them over quickly. The man holding the reins of the pair sneered at him. Remy ignored him and concentrated on the horses.

"The bay has a weak front left leg, holds himself wrong. Worth one, maybe two, depends how he walks. The black one is a bit on the thin side, and his mane is badly trimmed. Could just be a bad clip or could be to hide a problem. Will take some work to make him look half decent. Two livres at best I'd say."

The man stared at Remy, with his mouth open in disbelief. Donovan smiled at him. "The boy is right. A little blunt perhaps, but it saves time, and time is money. I'll give you four livres for the pair, and you won't get a better deal elsewhere, unless you can provide proof of ownership, perhaps?" The man paled a little, and Donovan smiled more. "I thought not. So, four livres. We have a deal? Yes?"

The man shook the proffered hand, grumbling, and throwing murderous looks at Remy as he handed him the reins. Donovan waited until the man had left, before backhanding Remy hard across the face. Remy had known the blow was coming, but didn't avoid it, knowing from experience that ducking would only make it worse. He felt the blood trickle from his lip.

"You've been costing me money. Had to hire others to do your shifts, and Killian wanted to hire you as well. He's stopped coming round now, which might be a good thing. Too many people asking questions about the things he's up to lately, and the items he was trying to dispose of were attracting the wrong kind of attention as well. Hard to get a good price. Still, that could have earned me money. If you weren't so good with the horses, I wouldn't let you back in my stables, you know that, don't you?"

Remy avoided his eye and nodded slightly. "Sorry, Donovan."

Donovan sighed and ruffled Remy's hair. "Got fewer shifts for you, unless some of the others fail to show. Get those horses bedded down, and I'll get you some food. Hungry? I bet you are. Go on then, quick about it."

He strode off towards the kitchen area, and Remy rubbed his lip gently, breathing out slowly. Not quite a done deal, and not quite the job he wanted, but it was better than nothing.

-o-o-o-o-

Remy snuck quietly into the barracks courtyard and looked around. Athos was sparring with Stefan, a big, bearded Musketeer who, unusually, favored his left hand. Porthos was cleaning his sword. He couldn't see Aramis. He headed over to the stables.

Jasper grinned at him. "Just the man I wanted to see. Grab that saddle over there. It needs a good clean. Lord only knows what Porthos did to get it covered in that much mud."

Remy grinned and busied himself cleaning the saddle. He was so engrossed in his work, that he never noticed Athos until he sat down on a nearby barrel.

"How've you been, boy? Not seen you for a while."

Remy kept his head down. "I was busy."

Athos frowned slightly and reached a hand out to raise Remy's head by the chin. Remy tried to avoid the hand, but Athos was quicker. He shook his head at the sight of Remy's split lip and the bruise on his cheek.

"Fighting?"

Remy turned his attention back to the saddle. "No, I wasn't fighting. Was just an accident."

Athos frowned. He wasn't sure what kind of accident was likely to leave a hand sized bruise on the boy's cheek, but he could guess, and he wasn't happy about the thought.


	8. Chapter 7

Remy was brushing one of the horses down in the stables. It wasn't the biggest stables in the city, nor the richest judging by appearances, but they did get some good horses. As long as you didn't need a comprehensive history of the horses, that is. If you weren't too fussy about where your horse came from, this was a good place to find a good horse, at a reasonable price, no questions asked. He lifted his head and listened. Those voices were familiar. He groaned inwardly as he recognised them. What the hell were the Musketeers doing here? He found himself hoping that this wasn't a raid and that Donovan hadn't "acquired" one of the Musketeers horses this time.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, come this way. You have come to the right place, We have the best horses to be found in the city. All my customers say so. I have some excellent choices at the moment."

Remy shook his head. Donovan would be telling them he had the perfect horses for them any minute now. And that he'd only sell to them at this price because they were special customers.

"I have the perfect horses for you. They came in a couple of days ago. To you, as special customers, I can give you the very best price."

"I'm sure you can."

Remy chuckled at the sarcasm dripping from Athos's words, although Donovan didn't seem to notice.

"Remy! Where are you boy? Bring those horses out here for these gentlemen to see. The ones in the far stalls."

Remy groaned, but headed through the back of the stalls to the horses Donovan had mentioned. They weren't the best horses in the stables. They were the ones that had been here the longest, and Donovan wanted rid of them quickly to make room for fresh stock. He haltered the best pair and led them out into the yard, studiously avoiding the eyes of the Musketeers. Thankfully, none of them gave any outward sign of recognising him. Remy breathed a little easier and held the horses still, while Athos gave them a cursory once over.

"These are the finest horses. Been here just two days. Others have expressed an interest, but to you, I can do a good price. Just eight livres each and they're yours." Donovan was in full salesman mode.

"We need eight horses," interrupted Athos, with his usual bluntness.

"Hmm, eight, yes, you are in luck. I have eight. You can have all eight. I can do you a good price. Sixty livres for all eight."

Athos stood in front of Remy to examine the teeth of one of the horses, blocking him from Donovan's view. Remy shook his head slightly. Athos grinned.

"These are the best you have?" There was no suggestion of the grin in his voice.

"Yes, yes, absolutely. They're the best. Just two days here. See how their coats shine. Perfect condition. Come over here, you can see the others. They are just as good."

Donovan led a mildly amused Aramis and a weary looking Porthos over to the stalls to see the other horses. Athos leant closer to Remy.

"How are they this shiny?" he whispered.

"Lots of brushing, oil and leather polish," whispered Remy. "They look good until it rains or they sweat. And these horses are terrible."

Athos smiled. "I can see that. Any decent ones here?"

Remy motioned to the other side of the stables. "There are six decent ones over there. He was keeping them for the Red Guards."

Athos nodded and looked around. Donovan was still in full sales mode, telling Aramis how good the horses were. He seemed to have given up on Porthos, who was leant on the stable door, looking thoroughly bored.

"I'm not sure about these horses. Walk them forwards, boy." Athos winked at Remy and strode to the far side of the stables, supposedly to watch the horses walk. Remy grinned and walked the horses forwards, aiming them at the stalls he'd mentioned. Athos followed his lead and wandered casually towards the stalls, casting a quick eye over the occupants. He watched as Remy turned the horses and walked them away again, his face impassive. Donovan was looking a little nervous, but Remy led the horses confidently, making sure they were shown as well as possible.

Athos inclined his head and looked at Aramis. "I'm still not sure. What do you think?"

Aramis shrugged. "I think they're expensive."

Donovan spluttered. "Expensive? No, gentlemen. I'm giving them away at that price."

Athos leant nonchalantly back on the stable door behind him. "I have to agree with my colleague. The one on the left carries his back left leg strangely. The one on the right has bad teeth. They look good from a distance, but I'm not sure they're right for us. We require hard working horses. These may look pretty on parade, but I don't think they'd last long."

Donovan looked shocked. Remy had to fight to hide the smile.

"I assure you, they're the best there is. We have nothing else. Tell him, boy." Donovan looked almost pleadingly at Remy.

Remy looked at Donovan, and absentmindedly rubbed his eye. "Well, we do have those others. The six over there."

Remy looked towards Athos, who took his cue and turned to look at the horses behind him. "Hmm. These look better. More flesh on their bones. Can we see them?"

Donovan was definitely flustered. He glared at Remy, then looked over at Athos, torn between yelling at Remy and trying to keep his prospective customers happy.

"Er, of course. Put these horses back and get them out for the gentlemen."

Remy wisely hid his smirk and hurried to restable the two horses. He heard Donovan behind him and braced himself for the blow he knew was coming. Luckily, Aramis was still leaning on the stable door, and Donovan was trying to be subtle, so he merely cuffed Remy on the back of the head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing. You know I was saving those for the Red Guards." Donovan kept his voice quiet enough that Aramis couldn't hear his words, but the menace still shone through.

Remy rubbed his head with a grimace. "I know, but these guys seem to know what they want. They want good horses. The Reds will send that fat man who can't tell a horse from a donkey. Half a glass of cheap wine, and he'll buy these eight from you for the full eight livres and think he got the deal of the year."

Donovan grumbled, but rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Alright, well hurry up, go and get the other horses on show before they lose interest. If I don't make a decent sale here, it'll be your skin. You're on your last chance. Killian is still after your services, Lord only knows why, but if you mess this up, I'm done with you, and you're going to have a hard time finding work anywhere in this city. Do you hear me?"

Remy hurried out of Donovan's way and across the yard. Aramis was still leaning on the stable door, but his eyes had a hard glint in them. Donovan smiled his most ingratiating smile at him. "Boys. You just can't get good staff these days."

Aramis said nothing, turning his back on Donovan and watching Remy lead the next pair of horses across the yard. He had to admit, this pair looked a lot better than the previous pair. He walked across and whispered something to Athos, who turned and glared at Donovan. Donovan squirmed uncomfortably, unsure exactly what he'd done to incur the man's wrath, but pretty sure he needed to be extra polite in order to make his sale. He walked a little closer, but wisely, not too close.

"See, the boy is right, these are good horses as well. Almost as good as the others. I can sell them to you for seven livres, but I only have six I'm afraid."

"There are two more on the end, they came in this morning. Not had a chance to check them over yet." Remy earned himself a glare from Donovan, and mentally kicked himself. The vein in the side of Donovan's neck was beginning to pulse. Never a good sign. He was going to have to try and stay out of Donovan's reach for the rest of the day.

Athos had wandered over to look at the two new horses. One was big and obviously strong, with a white flash on its face. The other was smaller and quite skittish, with three white socks just showing through the dirt and grime. It shied away from him as he reached towards it.

"The bigger one looks sound enough. Not sure about this one though. It is a little on the small side, and a little nervous."

Donovan hurried over. "Yes, yes I was a little unsure, but a good wash and some feed and he'll be fine. The bigger one is strong. Ideal for you. You can have these for the same price."

Athos frowned at him. "So, you're saying that a large strong horse and a small skittish one are worth the same?"

"No, no, obviously not. But the pair can be yours for fourteen."

Athos raised his eyebrows. "I am not paying fourteen livres for one horse. The small one is of little use to me."

"No, of course, but you need eight horses. Seven livres per horse. I paid six livres for them. I'm almost giving them away." He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

Athos glanced over at Remy, and noticed the boy had three fingers splayed out on the side of the horses neck, as he stroked it. It was a brief signal, but Athos smiled to himself.

"You paid six livres for this one?" He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Too steep for me, I'm afraid." He turned to walk away.

Donovan glowered and took a couple of steps towards Remy, raising his hand. Porthos grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, causing Donovan to gasp in pain.

"Hey, what the hell …"

"The boy did nothing wrong." Porthos grinned a toothy grin at Remy, who didn't grin back. He was too busy wondering how slowly Donovan was going to kill him once the Musketeers left.

"Is there a problem?" asked Athos.

"Your friend … hurting my arm …" gasped Donovan.

"Porthos, let the man go. I'm sorry about that. He gets a little carried away sometimes. Doesn't know his own strength." Athos made a big show of brushing Donovan down, as he tried to massage some feeling back into his arm. He smiled gratefully at Athos, but turned pale at the expression on Athos's face. Donovan was now torn between making a sale and getting rid of these soldiers quickly.

"Look, I'm sure we can reach an agreement. What price did you have in mind?" Donovan looked at each of the Musketeers in turn.

Porthos scowled back at him, while Aramis ignored him completely. Athos seemed to think for a moment. "I was thinking more of five livres per horse."

"Five?" squeaked Donovan. "I paid more than that."

"Then you paid too much." Athos turned to leave again.

Donovan scurried to catch up to him. "Wait, no, five livres. For the eight."

Athos smiled at him, with no humor in his eyes. "No, for the seven. You can throw in the small one if you like. I'll see it finds a good home. Save you feeding it."

Donovan's mouth opened and closed noiselessly. "But … that's … thirty five livres for eight horses."

"He's good at maths," muttered Aramis, not quite fully under his breath.

"It is indeed. And that is a very good deal, which is what you promised us at the start of proceedings." He waited patiently as Donovan tried to work out whether or not it was worth it just to get rid of them quickly.

"Very well, as it for the Musketeers and I have always been a supporter of the Blues, thirty five livres."

"For all eight," clarified Athos.

"For all eight." Donovan almost choked on the words. He glared murderously at Remy.

Athos followed his gaze. "Oh, and I'd like to hire your stable boy for the rest of the day."

"What?!" Donovan was rapidly turning purple with rage and disbelief.

"I said, I'd like to hire your stable boy for the rest of the day," repeated Athos, patiently. "We'll need help to get these horses across town to our barracks, and to settle them in. I realise I'm denying you of his assistance, but you seem to have others, so I'm sure you won't miss one. Especially one that small."

Donovan spluttered and glared at Remy again. Remy wisely kept quiet and stared at the floor.

Donovan looked to Athos, whose face remained impassive as always. He sighed. "Very well. Pay me for his time and he's yours for the day. I want you back here bright and early in the morning, boy. Do you hear me?"

Remy nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Remy made himself busy, roping the horses in pairs. Donovan made a few moves in his direction, but Porthos always seemed to be in the way, so he had to satisfy himself with glaring at Remy instead. Remy avoided his gaze and concentrated on the horses. Each of the Musketeers took a pair of horses from him and mounted their own horses, with Athos taking the skittish one. Remy nimbly vaulted onto the back of one of the remaining pair, and the strange group set off for the Musketeers barracks, with Donovan muttering darkly under his breath all the things he was going to do to Remy when he returned.

Back at the barracks, Remy avoided all three men and again made himself busy with the horses, brushing them down and leading them to empty stalls. Athos frowned, but headed off to report to Treville. Aramis shrugged at Porthos and left, looking worried. Porthos stayed, hovering near to Remy without actually getting in his way. Remy had dealt with half the horses before Porthos finally spoke.

"You're quiet."

Remy ignored him and stabled the fifth horse.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," snapped Remy, trying to control the anger that was rising in his blood.

"You don't sound fine. You sound angry."

"You think?"

Porthos scratched his head. "Why are you mad at us? Come on, it's not going to take you all day to sort these last three horses, and then you have the rest of the day free."

Remy spun round and glared at him, and Porthos actually took a step backwards.

"Great. A whole half day off. Something to enjoy, before Donovan kills me. Thanks a lot." He turned his back on Porthos and tried to calm himself. His anger was beginning to feed through to the horse he was currently trying to stable. He took a deep breath and stroked the horses neck, waiting for his anger to fade and the horse to settle.

Porthos stood in silence, watching him, with a look of realisation spreading across his face. Donovan had been mad at Remy, and by getting the boy out of there for the day, they'd just delayed his fate, and possibly made it worse. He hung his head, feeling guilt flood through his body, turned, and trudged away.

Remy heard him go. Half of him wanted to yell that it wasn't their fault, and half of him wanted to hit something. Or someone. Preferably hard. He contented himself with kicking the side of the water trough.

He stabled the sixth horse, and was left with the large horse with the white flash and the smaller, skittish horse. He fetched a bucket of water and set about washing the large horse. It was a placid animal, and stood patiently while Remy washed and brushed it, although it did try chewing his hair a couple of times. Normally, Remy would have thought it funny, but he was too busy running through all the things Donovan would be mad at him for, and just pushed the animal away.

Aramis watched him, glumly. "Did we just make life harder for him?"

Porthos shrugged and polished his sword. "Probably."

"That wasn't the intention."

"I don't think that makes much difference."

"I'll go talk to him."

"Good luck."

Aramis strode over to the stables. Remy was just settling the large horse in, and making sure it had enough feed. It nuzzled him, but he shrugged it off. The horse whinnied gently.

Remy sighed and stroked it's neck. "Sorry, fella. Not your fault. Just not having a good day."

"Well, maybe we can make it better," suggested Aramis, with a smile. The smile quickly vanished as Remy turned and glared at him.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Had all the help I need from you today." He pushed past Aramis and went to refill the bucket.

Aramis watched him go, confused. "What did we do?"

Remy sighed and stopped. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'll just sort this last horse out then I'm out of here." He hoisted the bucket up and strode towards the horse, which was watching him carefully. He put the bucket down and looked at the horse, which backed away slightly. Remy shook his head. "Yeah, I know, but I'll make you a deal. I won't hurt you, and you don't hurt me."

The horse snorted and watched him closely. Remy reached out a hand, and the horse backed away. Remy let him settle, and then tried again, but the horse still backed away.

Aramis watched, with a slight frown on his face. "Looks like he's going to need a lot of patience," he observed.

Remy spun around and glared at him. "You think?" He kicked out angrily at the bucket, intending to miss it, but accidentally catching it cleanly and sending it flying. The horse panicked and reared up. Remy stepped back out of the way, cursing under his breath, but he wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the lash of the rope hanging from the horse's makeshift halter. It caught him across the face. He staggered back, clutching his cheek.

"Let me see." Aramis was by his side him in an easy stride, and reaching for Remy's face.

Remy pulled away from Aramis. "I'm fine. Got to calm the horse."

Aramis looked at him, somewhat taken aback. "The horse will calm down in his own time. Your face is bleeding and needs attention."

"It's just a cut," snapped Remy. "I'm fine. Stop fussing." He headed off into the stables, effectively ending the conversation. Aramis stared at his retreating back, and shook his head.

"Something wrong?" Athos followed his comrades stare.

Aramis shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing. Remy's right, I should stop fussing. He's fine." Aramis turned and strode back to join Porthos.

Athos frowned, watching Aramis. It was unlike Aramis to sound so defeated. He absentmindedly reached out to the still panicking horse and grabbed the rope, holding it just firmly enough for the horse to know it was held, yet not enough to make the horse fight against the hold. He spoke quietly to it, waiting for it to calm. When he was sure the horse had calmed, he wrapped the rope round the rail and set off inside to find Remy. He wasn't sure what had got into the boy, but he intended to find out. He found Remy, leant on a wall, staring unseeingly at the floor. Remy straightened up when he heard Athos, but didn't turn to face him. Athos frowned, noting the slight dint in the wooden support column, and the fact the boy was holding his hand oddly.

"So, you're fine."

"Yes."

"You don't need a hand." Athos chose his words carefully. The slight tensing of Remy's shoulders told him he'd guessed correctly.

"No. Thanks."

"Hmm, well you'd better wash that horse down then. That's always supposing you've finished scaring it half to death."

Remy spun round, his eyes glaring angrily. "I didn't mean to scare it, it's just ... oh, it doesn't matter." He stomped past Athos to go see to the horse. Or at least, he tried to, but Athos grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. Remy struggled to break free of the man's grasp, and earned himself a swift cuff round the ear.

"Stand still, boy. That cheek needs some attention. Nasty cut. Doesn't look too deep though."

Remy continued to try and wriggle free, and Athos released his grasp. "I'm fine. Leave me alone. I have a horse to see to."

Athos shook his head, positioning himself firmly in Remy's way. "That horse is skittish as hell, and the mood you're in, is not helping. You need to calm down."

"I need to do my job," growled Remy.

Athos sighed. "Remy, look, I swear, I did not know you worked there, or I'd have gone elsewhere for horses. And you were very helpful to us. I didn't mean to get you into trouble with Donovan. Perhaps it would help if I explained that to him."

Remy looked at him, aghast.

Athos sighed "Or, maybe not. At least let Aramis tend that cut, and your hand." Remy looked down at his hand and pulled his sleeve down to try and hide it. "I'm willing to bet that hitting that support helped ease your anger, but made your hand hurt."

"I'm fine. What part of that don't you get. I don't need your help."

Athos stared at him, but the boy just stared back, defiantly. Athos shook his head. "Well, in that case, best you leave. You'll be no use to me in this mood. Go on, get away."

Remy stared at him, feeling the anger rise once again. "Fine."

Athos stood to one side to let him pass, and Remy left without another word.

-o-o-o-o-

Athos woke early and stretched, resisting the almost automatic reaction to find the bucket of cold water and dunk his head in it. This morning, of all mornings, he didn't need it. His head was perfectly clear, even though he wasn't sure that was good. He dressed quickly and headed out. He reached the stables near the edge of town early, though from the yelling coming from inside, not quite early enough. He cursed under his breath and quickened his stride.

"I told you, I wanted a decent sale."

"You got a decent sale. Five livres. You paid two, three tops. That's a profit."

"I wanted ten for those, more for that big lump. The small one, yes they took that off my hands and good riddance, but you've cost me money. That's coming out of your hide."

"Not my fault if they can tell the difference between a genuine good horse and one that's been made up to look good."

"You told them. That's it isn't it, you told them."

"I did not. How the hell did I tell them anything. Gerrof. Ow."

Remy curled into as tight a ball as he could, trying to cover his head with his arms, waiting for the next blow. Instead, Donovan squealed in pain. Remy glanced up, and was amazed to see Donovan with his arm rammed all the way up his back, desperately trying to free himself from Athos's grasp. A very angry looking Athos.

"Is your pack here, Remy?" Athos kept his eyes fixed firmly on Donovan, as the man squirmed around helplessly in the soldier's grip.

Remy nodded. "Yes."

"Good, go get it."

Remy scrambled to his feet and ran to get his pack. Athos leant in close to Donovan and growled in his ear. "If I find you abusing that boy ever again, there won't be enough thread in Paris to sew all your respective parts back together again. Do I make myself clear?"

Donovan muttered something, and then groaned as Athos twisted his arm. "Ok, ok, I get it, I get it. Look, if the boy means that much to you, perhaps we could reach an understanding ..." Donovan's words trailed away as Athos took a vice like grip on his shoulder and forced him to his knees.

"If there is any understanding to be reached, it will be with the boy, not you. He is free to make his own choices. Well, free apart from one thing. Remy, come here."

Remy had thought he'd approached the pair quietly, but Athos had somehow realised he was there. He edged a little closer, nervously.

"Remy, do you like working for this piece of detritus?"

"Piece of what?"

Athos shook his head. "Your education needs some work, boy. Scum. Pond life. Worthless piece of shit."

"Oh. No ... well ... no, not really, but it's regular work."

Athos frowned. "Well, we need to work on that. In the meantime, do you actually like working for this ... vermin?"

Remy shook his head. "No, Sir."

"Good. In that case, you're not working here any more."

Remy opened his mouth to speak, and snapped it shut when Athos fixed him with a look that would have withered a rose.

"Non negotiable, if you want to keep working for me anyway. Your choice, Remy. Here, or for me. And I'm making no promises on the work I can offer you."

Remy didn't hesitate. "Donovan, I quit."

Donovan spluttered, but quietened down when Athos squeezed his shoulder. "Got that? He quit. He doesn't work here anymore. So you are to leave him alone. Am I making myself clear?"

Donovan grunted, then yowled with pain. "Ok, I get it, he's yours."

Athos shook his head. "No, you really don't get it. Remy is not 'mine'. Remy is in charge of his own destiny. And he's chosen not to walk your path. So you will leave him be." He leaned in even closer, his fingers turning white with the pressure he was using to squeeze Donovan's shoulder, and whispered in the man's ear. "If I ever find you've hurt this boy again, I will hunt you down like the dog you are and personally rip you apart, limb by limb, excruciatingly slowly." He released his grip on Donovan's shoulder, giving him a sharp push in the back and sending him sprawling face first in the dirt, groaning in pain. "Come on, Remy."

Remy walked beside Athos quietly. Athos still seemed to be angry, and Remy didn't want to be on the receiving end of anything close to what he'd just done to Donovan. By the time they reached the barracks, Athos seemed to have calmed considerably. Remy risked a quick sideways glance at him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, boy."

Athos lead the way inside one of the barracks rooms. Aramis was sat in the corner, cleaning his musket, while Porthos was gnawing distractedly on a lump of bread. Remy groaned inwardly, remembering how he'd snapped at both men the day before, then squeaked as Athos grabbed him firmly by the waist, lifting him easily, and sitting him down on a table.

"Stay." Athos strode off through another doorway.

Remy stayed put, but squirmed a little, and tried not to look at the other men. Athos returned with a bowl of water and some cloths. Remy couldn't hide the groan.

Aramis chuckled. "You should have let me take a look yesterday."

Remy hung his head a little. "Yes, I know. Sorry I snapped. It was just ..." his voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

"A bad day?" suggested Aramis, with a soft smile. "We all have them, Remy. Don't worry about it."

Remy breathed a little easier. One down, one to go. He risked a glance at Porthos, who'd abandoned the lump of bread and was now just looking worriedly at the grubby bandage Remy had tied around his hand.

"What did you do?"

"He punched a wooden support," supplied Athos.

Porthos blinked. "Er ... why?"

"Good question. Why did you do that, boy?"

Remy shrugged. "I needed something to hit. Seemed as good as anything. Was a bit more solid than I thought, and I hit it a bit harder than I meant to."

"Did you break it?" Aramis put his musket down, taking closer interest in the conversation.

"The support?"

Aramis rolled his eyes. "No, Remy, your hand."

"I don't think so. Just grazed my knuckles. Hurts, but not too bad."

"Have you quite finished?" growled Athos, though fairly good naturedly. "If I'm going to clean up this cut, it would help if he sat still and kept quiet."

Aramis chuckled. "I'll fetch some clean bandages."

He headed out as Athos gently tilted Remy's head back and examined the cut on his cheek. "Did you clean this up yourself?"

"Tried to," said Remy. "Not sure I did too good a job. Stung like hell."

Athos rolled his eyes. "Well, this is going to sting like hell as well, so try to sit still."

Remy winced as Athos gently cleaned the cut. Porthos watched, wincing in sympathy with Remy. Athos finally decided it was clean enough, and made Remy hold a cloth against it, to stem the slight trickle of fresh blood.

"I don't think that will need stitches, but you're going to have to keep it clean for a few days. Or try to, anyway."

"Ok." Remy sounded quiet and subdued.

Athos frowned at him, and caught the sideways glance Remy shot at Porthos. "I need some salve for that bruise on the side of your head."

"What bruise?" Remy looked confused.

"The new one that Donovan gave you this morning."

"Oh. That."

"This morning?" Now it was Porthos's turn to look confused.

"Yes," said Athos patiently. "This morning, when I retrieved him from Donovans. I'll be back in a minute. Stay there, Remy. And hold that cloth still."

Remy cast a few furtive glances at Porthos, but the big man was staring out of the window into the courtyard. He wondered what was keeping Athos, or where Aramis had got to. He took a deep breath.

"Porthos?"

"Huh? What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For snapping at you yesterday. It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have blamed you."

Remy was staring at the floor, and didn't notice Porthos until the big man had wrapped his arms around him and hugged him gently. He jumped a little, but didn't try to wriggle free. Porthos released him and ruffled his hair.

"It wasn't your fault either, Remy. Remember that."

Outside the room, Aramis nudged Athos. "Can I go bandage his hand now?"

Athos chuckled. "I think so, although I'd make sure you don't hurt him too much if you don't want Porthos growling at you."

-o-o-o-o-

"How exactly am I supposed to wash the horse if Aramis says I have to keep the bandage on my hand dry?" Remy scratched his head and stared at the horse with the three white socks.

Athos scratched his head. "I'm not altogether sure."

Aramis grinned. "You could get Lucas to do it." He laughed as Remy shot him a look of pure astonishment. "Yes, alright, maybe not one of my better suggestions."

The horse whinnied and tossed his head, staring at them. It was still roped to the rail where Athos had left it the day before.

Porthos joined them, draping one arm casually over Remy's shoulder. "I'm not sure he'll even let you wash him. Athos is the only one that's managed to get close to him so far. Maybe just brush him a little. Carefully."

Remy grinned a little sheepishly. "Yes, I know, no kicking water buckets near him today."

Porthos chuckled and ruffled Remy's hair. "You're learning."

Remy stuck his tongue out at the big man, and scampered out of reach quickly, heading off to fetch some brushes.

"Well, he seems more like himself today," commented Aramis.

Athos nodded and sat down on his usual bench. "He just needed to calm down and stop over thinking things."

Porthos snorted. "Look who's talking."

Athos shot him a baleful glare, which Porthos studiously ignored. There was a loud whinnying from the end of the stalls, and the thunder of hooves on the floor. Lucas came flying out of the end stable, skidding to a halt in the courtyard.

"He tried to kill me!"

Athos raised his eyebrows. "Who tried to kill you?"

"That horse. It's mad ... dangerous ... I'm not going near it again."

"Well that's two horses he's not going near now. Why does he work here?" muttered Porthos, under his breath.

"What did you do to it?" asked Athos, calmly.

"Nothing," protested Lucas. "Nothing at all. I was just cleaning it out, and it started trying to eat my head. I pushed it away and it went mad."

Remy emerged from the stables, armed with a couple of brushes and a cloth. "Ah, he tried that with me yesterday. He wasn't trying to eat your head, just chew your hair a bit. It's just his way."

"He was trying to eat me," declared Lucas.

Remy shrugged, put the brushes down and headed towards the end stall. He leant over the open door and whistled quietly to the horse, which quietened down, trotted over, and started nuzzling him.

"Yes, he looks very dangerous," chuckled Porthos.

Remy opened the stall door and led the horse into the yard. Lucas backed away.

"Keep that thing away from me. It's dangerous."

"Does he mean Remy, or the horse?" asked Aramis, quietly. Athos rolled his eyes.

"Do you name your horses?" asked Remy, stroking the big horses nose. The horse shoved him backwards, gently, and tried to chew his hair. "Hey, cut that out, you daft animal." Remy didn't attempt to push him away, and the horse soon lost interest and looked around the yard.

"Sometimes. Why, did you have a name in mind for him?" asked Athos.

Remy thought for a moment. "Not sure. He's got a white flash on his head, so maybe Flash." The horse whinnied and tossed it's head. "Or maybe not."

Athos leant his head to one side. "Well, when he stomps his feet, it sounds like thunder."

Remy grinned. "Thunder. Good name." The horse snorted and tried to set off across the yard towards Athos. Remy released the halter and let him go. "Looks like he likes your choice."

The horse stopped by Athos and tried to chew his hair. Athos rolled his eyes, reaching up to stroke the horse.

Porthos laughed. "Looks like he likes your hair too. So, if that one is Thunder, does that make the smaller one Lightning?"

'Lightning' whinnied and tossed his head in response. Or possibly in response to Remy starting to brush him.

Athos laughed. "Thunder and Lightning."


	9. Chapter 8

Remy was perched on one of his favorite spots, on the wall near the fruit stand at the east market square. He was high enough up to see any trouble heading his way, and to spot any job opportunities. Moving crates, filling sacks, running errands, Remy wasn't too fussy. He couldn't afford to be fussy. And he often managed to get free food as well. More often than not, it was only bruised fruit, or a pie that had rolled on the floor, but it was still edible.

He saw the Musketeers hats above the crowd at the far side on the square and watched them weave their way through the crowd. He frowned, wondering what they were doing in this square. It wasn't a direct route from the barracks to the palace or any of the town gates. He shrugged to himself. None of his concern.

Athos stopped his horse alongside Remy. Well, both horses, as he was riding Thunder and leading a second, smaller horse, with three white socks. Lightning. Remy grinned. Lightning was proving to be a better horse than they'd initially suspected. He might have been small, but he was fast and nimble, and had much more stamina than his size may have suggested. Porthos and Aramis waited a little way behind, with Porthos keeping a wary eye on the crowd. All four horses were carrying full saddlebags.

Remy grinned at Athos. "Lost?"

Athos raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm not lost. I'm heading out of town for a few days, for work. Speaking of which, are you currently working?"

Remy shook his head. "Not right this minute, no. Maybe later, when the stalls need clearing." He glanced over at a small throng of boys, a few stalls away, who were throwing pebbles at a target. "Lots of competition today, though."

Athos followed his gaze. "Hmm. How about for the next few days. Anything planned?"

"Nothing definite."

"So, how would you like to help me for the next few days?"

"You? But you just said you were going out of town."

"Exactly. It's been a long week, we're all tired, and a long trip is not something we're looking forward to. We'd appreciate some help with the horses. Especially this one." He nodded at Lightning. "He's still a little wary around strangers. Should be a fairly safe trip, but I can't guarantee it. I can guarantee we'll make sure you get fed."

Remy looked from Athos to Aramis, and then to Porthos, who was trying to hide a yawn.

Aramis just shrugged. "Do us all a favor and say yes, quickly, before Porthos yawns so much he swallows someone."

Remy grinned. "Ok. I'm in."

"Good." Athos pulled Lightning forwards, until it was level with Remy. Remy looked at him blankly. Athos sighed. "Unless you're intending to walk the whole way, you'd better get on the horse."

Remy's eyes lit up, and he quickly mounted the horse, adjusting his pack. The small group set off. Aramis nudged his horse forwards to join Athos, and Remy dropped back alongside Porthos. Remy glanced sideways at the big man, who was still yawning, and fervently hoped he wasn't going to fall asleep and fall off the horse.

It was early evening when they arrived at the tavern and already falling dark quickly. The tavern owner was standing outside, talking to a customer, who was just leaving. Athos greeted him.

"We need rooms for the night, and stabling for the horses."

"Not a problem, gentlemen, except I have no stable boy."

Athos indicated Remy with his head. "That's alright, we brought our own."

"Well, in that case, come on in. The boy can sleep in the hay loft. It's dry, and there are blankets up there. I'll send some food out for him. Let's see if we can find you some rooms."

The Musketeers dismounted, removed the saddlebags from all four horses, and headed off into the tavern, leaving Remy to stable the horses. He unsaddled them all and gave them a rub down, before making sure they were all securely in a stall with food and water. He was just closing the stall door on the last one when Athos appeared.

"Need a hand?"

"Just finished, thanks."

Athos cast a quick, appraising eye over the horses and nodded his approval. "Good. Brought you some food out."

"Thanks." Remy eyed the bowl of stew hungrily.

"Got enough blankets?"

"No idea. I haven't checked. I'll be fine."

"Alright, well eat your food before it goes cold. Take your dish round the back to the kitchen door when you're done, and then get some sleep. We'll be inside if you need anything."

Remy was awake early, as usual. He busied himself, feeding and watering the horses, and giving them a quick brush down. He was just starting to saddle them up when he heard a whistle from behind him. He turned around to see Aramis, leaning on the half open door.

"Someone's up early."

Remy grinned. "The horses don't saddle themselves."

Aramis rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's true. And I suppose you haven't eaten yet?"

Remy shook his head and went back to work. "Horses first, eat later."

Aramis watched him for a moment, then opened the door and grabbed a saddle. "Well, if I help, we both get to eat sooner. Preferably before Porthos works his way through the entire contents of the kitchen."

The second day was much the same as the first, except Porthos yawned less. They stopped for the night at another tavern. This time, Porthos came out to help him with the horses, and took him into the tavern to eat with them. This hay loft had fewer blankets, but plenty hay, so he was still warm and dry. Aramis was up early in the morning to help him see to the horses. Remy stared up at the sky. The blue of the last two days had gone, and grey clouds drifted across instead. Aramis looked up as well.

"Looks like it might rain a little today."

Mid morning, it started to rain. And rain. And rain. Water literally poured from the sky. They stopped to shelter from the heaviest of the rain in a small copse of trees. They were all soaked through. Water dripped from the Musketeers hats. The sound of the rain hitting the floor was almost deafening. Porthos tugged his cloak around him and growled at the sky.

"Stop raining!"

Aramis chuckled. "If only it was that simple."

"Well, it damn well should be."

Athos leant back against the tree and closed his eyes. "No point moving until this eases a little."

Remy shivered as a trickle of rain ran down his back. He tugged the horses closer to him, partly to keep them calm, and partly to shelter him from the worst of the weather.

After about an hour, the rain thankfully bated a little, although it didn't stop. Remy dried the saddles with a cloth, and they set off once more. They were all wet, miserable, and quiet. Remy's throat itched, but he ignored it. It was almost dark when they reached the tavern. Remy unsaddled the horses and started to dry them off. All three of the Musketeers returned to help him get the horses fed, watered and settled for the night.

In the tavern, they chose the closest table to the fire, with Aramis and Porthos vying for the prime position to dry off. Remy grinned watching them bicker good naturedly, while Athos just rolled his eyes. The tavern owner brought their food over, and the Musketeers ate hungrily. Remy picked at his half heartedly.

Athos frowned. "Not hungry, Remy?"

Remy shrugged. "Just really tired. It was a long day."

"Well, go get some sleep then. Tomorrow will be a better day. It can't rain that much again."

Remy nodded and headed back to the stables, shedding his damp clothes, and draping them over the beams to dry off, before burrowing under the blankets he'd arranged in the hay loft. He was so tired, he was sure he'd be asleep in seconds, but sleep just wouldn't come. His head ached, his feet were cold, and his throat hurt. He tossed and turned for a while, then got up, wrapped a blanket around him, and went down to sit with the horses for a while. He was so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open, so he headed back up to the loft and tried to sleep again. When dawn broke and the early morning light started to force its way through the cracks in the stable walls, Remy finally abandoned all hope of sleep, and got dressed.

The horses seemed to sense that he wasn't feeling too good, and they all stood perfectly still for him. Thunder even nuzzled his hair. Even though he was working slower than normal, he'd still nearly finished when Porthos appeared. With the final horse saddled and ready, Porthos led the way back to the tavern. Remy sat quietly, picking at his breakfast, and wishing that his head would stop aching. Athos frowned at him and glanced at Aramis, who was also frowning.

"Cheer up, Remy. At least it's not raining today."

Aramis spoke too soon. By mid morning, water was once more pouring from a grey sky. They took shelter in an old barn. Remy tied the horses to a rail under a dry section of roof, and perched on an old barrel nearby. He felt thoroughly miserable. His head hurt, his throat hurt, and he was beyond tired. He'd also developed a slight cough, which didn't hurt as much as it was annoying, and it wasn't helping his throat. He stared out into the rain and hoped for drier weather. The Musketeers were huddled in a group to one side. Athos cast a few worried looks Remys way.

"Is it me, or is he developing a cough?"

"I was thinking the same thing," said Aramis.

"He looks a little pale too," remarked Porthos.

"Hey, Remy, come here a minute."

Remy wandered slowly over to Athos, trying not to cough. He couldn't hide the shiver though. Athos frowned, took his gloves off, and pulled Remy closer, feeling his forehead.

"You're burning up, boy."

"I'm ok." Remy's voice sounded fairly strong, but Aramis detected a slight raspiness to it. He reached out and checked Remy's forehead as well, then grabbed his chin and tilted his head back, looking into his eyes.

"No, Remy. I don't think you are ok. I think you're feeling pretty bad right now. Are you cold?"

Remy shook his head. "I'm fine. Just fed up of the rain." He shivered and coughed. "Well, maybe a little cold."

Athos shook his head and tugged Remy close to him, wrapping his cloak around Remy. "You should have said you were cold, boy. Is that why you weren't hungry last night? Were you cold then as well?"

Remy mumbled something, grateful for the sudden warmth. He never noticed the worried looks the three men exchanged. He stifled a yawn, which turned into a cough, and ended back in a yawn.

"Tired?" asked Athos.

"Mmm."

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Aramis was rummaging in one of his saddle bags.

"Not much," admitted Remy.

"You should have said something, Remy. Here, drink this." Aramis handed him a beaker with some liquid in it. Remy took a sip and wrinkled up his nose, trying to hand the beaker back. Aramis shook his head and smiled. "No, Remy, drink it."

Remy frowned, but drank it. It didn't taste all that good, but it did soothe his throat. He yawned again and leant a little more on Athos.

Aramis frowned. "I think we ought to make a move before he falls asleep on you."

Athos looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure I trust him on a horse on his own right now. I don't want him falling off. Alright, Remy, you're riding with me."

Remy was half asleep on the front of Athos's horse, with Athos holding the reins around him, his cloak wrapped around them both. It was still raining, though not as heavily, and Remy felt warmer and drier now, thanks to the cloak and the fact he was so close to Athos.

"I should have realised he wasn't well." Athos was obviously concerned for the boy.

Aramis tried to assuage his friend's guilt. "We all should have, but we didn't and he said nothing. I assumed he was just tired, which was only natural after two long days of riding."

"It was all that rain that did it," mused Athos. "We all have a cloak, Remy doesn't."

Porthos muttered under his breath. "He should have said he was feeling ill."

"Well, I'm sure a good nights sleep, and he'll feel much better." Aramis tried to sound confident.

Athos carried Remy into the tavern, with Aramis close on his heels. The tavern owner looked over at them. Apart from him, the place was deserted. "I suppose you'll be wanting a room, will you?"

Aramis raised an eyebrow at the man. "We'll be wanting four beds, the number of rooms is irrelevant."

The man nodded. "I got two rooms free, two beds in each. The boy tired, is he?"

Athos favored him with a withering glare. "No. I always carry him around."

The man frowned, and scratched his unruly grey hair, trying to work out if Athos was being serious.

A small, grey haired woman bustled past him. "Mind your back, Edmund." She caught sight of Remy. "Oh, my, poor thing. He looks frozen. Bring him over here to the fire. I'll fetch some broth, that should warm him up. Just the three of you? Edmund, move those chairs and bank the fire up." She bustled around, gently manoeuvring Aramis and Athos over to the fire. Athos managed to deposit Remy into a chair. He shivered and opened his eyes fully, looking around, trying to work out where he was.

Aramis finally managed to get a word in edgeways. "There are four of us. Our friend is just seeing to the horses."

"You should have a stable boy for that," remarked Edmund, as he put more logs on the fire.

His wife thumped him firmly in the arm. "Edmund! Honestly. This little one probably is their stable boy. Poor thing. Did he get soaked through in all that rain? Never mind, we'll soon dry him out. Edmund, go air the rooms, and put some extra blankets out. We haven't had anyone through here for a few days. It's this terrible weather, puts off most travellers. Going far are you?" She bustled off without waiting for an answer.

Athos scratched his head. "One of us should go help Porthos."

Aramis nodded and reached for his saddlebags. "And since I'm the one with the medicine, that would be you."

Athos rolled his eyes. "I knew you were going to say that. Remy, do what Aramis tells you. I'll be back in a bit."

Remy nodded. He was feeling a little better. The tavern was dry and the fire was warm. His throat was dry, and he coughed and rubbed it without really realising what he was doing. Aramis noticed and produced the beaker, pouring a couple of liquids into it.

"Here, drink this. It will ease your throat."

Remy drank it gratefully. Aramis took his cloak off and draped it round Remy's shoulders.

The woman came bustling back, with a big bowl of steaming broth and some smaller dishes and spoons. "This should warm you all up. Is he cold? I'll go and get a blanket to wrap him in." She bustled off again.

By the time Athos returned with Porthos, Aramis had managed to get some broth into Remy, and Irene had wrapped a couple of blankets around him and one around Aramis as well, despite his protestations. Both men shook water from their hats and cloaks as she looked up from fussing over Remy.

"Oh, my, is it raining again? Sit down near the fire and get some broth inside you. It really is terrible weather, but we'll soon get you all dried out. Here, wrap a blanket around you to warm you up."

She tried to wrap Athos into a blanket, but he just smiled at her, a little bemused, and gently took the blanket from her, draping it over his shoulders. "Thank you, Madam, I'm sure we'll be just fine."

"Irene. Call me Irene, dear. I'm not sure what sent you out in such weather, really I'm not. I wouldn't even send Edmund out in this."

Edmund grunted something from behind the bar. He might have been agreeing with her, or it could have been a derisive grunt. Irene didn't seem to notice.

"It's our job, Madam." Athos sat down next to Remy and peered at his face. "Feeling a bit better, boy?"

Remy nodded and sneezed. Irene bustled over to Porthos and tried to wrap a blanket around him as well, despite the fact that she couldn't reach. "Come along, dear, get yourself dry. You don't want to catch a chill like this little one. What's his name?"

Porthos peered down at her, mildly annoyed at being fussed over, yet grateful to be out of the rain. He took the blanket from her and draped it over his shoulders, before heading over to join the others, and helping himself to some broth.

"His name is Remy," said Aramis.

"Well, he's too thin. Look at him. All skin and bones. He needs feeding up. You all do. I'll get more broth." Irene bustled off towards the kitchen.

Porthos scratched his head. "What was that?"

Athos chuckled. "That was Irene. A force of nature if ever I met one. But she is right. Remy does need feeding up. However, right now it looks like he needs some sleep. Time you were in bed, boy."

Remy mumbled something incoherent and sneezed.

Remy woke up in a sweat and sat bolt upright in bed, coughing. He had no idea where he was, and in a blind panic he tried to get out of bed, but strong hands pushed him back down. He was about to try and fight his way free, but a calming, low voice told him that it was alright and just to rest. Rest sounded good. He was very tired, but he was too warm. He lay down, but pushed the blanket off. It took three attempts before Athos finally managed to tuck him under the blanket.

Remy woke up, coughing and shivering. His head felt like it was on fire, yet his feet were frozen. He felt so tired, he could barely open his eyes. He just wanted to sleep. Or to stop coughing. If he stopped coughing, he'd be able to sleep. Someone raised him up and tilted his head back slightly, holding a cup to his lips.

"Drink this, Remy."

Remy managed a couple of mouthfuls. The urge to cough faded. He sighed, and lay back down. He was tucked in gently.

"Warm enough, boy?"

"Cold feet," was all he managed to mumble.

Athos placed another blanket over the foot of Remy's bed. "Better?"

Remy mumbled something and was asleep.

"What the hell is in that, Aramis?"

Aramis sniffed the cup. "Honey, wine, water, and some poppy juice. He should sleep for a while, as long as doesn't wake up coughing."

"Well, one of us is going to have to stay with him. He's not going to be fit enough to ride, and we have to get those supplies and orders to the fort."

"Porthos is the only one getting any sleep, so he's definitely going to the fort." Aramis grinned and Athos chuckled.

"Alright, well since you have the medicine, you'd better stay with Remy, and I'll go with Porthos."

Aramis nodded. "In that case, you'd better go and try to get some sleep. Always supposing Porthos isn't already snoring loud enough to rattle the windows."

Remy coughed and sneezed and grumbled. His head hurt, his eyes felt heavy, he was tired, but his throat wasn't hurting as much as before. It just felt scratchy.

"Well, you look a bit better this morning." Aramis checked his forehead. "Not burning up anymore either. Does your head hurt?"

"Yes."

"Throat hurt?"

"Not as bad." He coughed and grumbled. "Until I cough."

"Warm enough?"

"Yes, thanks." He sneezed and groaned.

"Can you sit up?"

Remy managed to sit up, and grimaced as Aramis handed him a cup.

"Just try and drink it. It will help, Remy, I promise."

Remy muttered but drank it. He hated to admit it, but it was soothing. He just didn't like the taste.

"Alright, time to get some more sleep, young man."

"I'm not tired," protested Remy, yawning.

Athos was tired. He hadn't got much sleep last night, Irene had fussed over them all through breakfast, and Porthos had been unusually cheerful and talkative all day. The rain hadn't really let up, although, thankfully, it was wasn't as heavy as it had been for the last couple of days. Everything was just grey, damp, dour and miserable. Everything except Porthos, who was actually whistling. Athos glared at him, but Porthos was completely oblivious. Porthos finally stopped whistling as the fort came into view, just as dusk fell.

"Finally! I thought we were going to have to swim here."

Athos grunted a response.

Porthos looked at him. "Worried about Remy? He'll be fine. He's warm and dry, and Aramis will be fussing over him. By the time we get back, he'll be fit and ready to go."

"I hope so."

They handed their documents over to the guard on duty, and were ushered in to see the fort commander.

"Come in, gentlemen. You made good time. With all the rain we've had in the last few days, I thought you'd be delayed. You'll be staying the night, I assume."

Athos nodded. "If we could, yes Sir. We'll set off back in the morning. If you have any documents to return, we'll take them with us."

The commander nodded. "I'll have them ready for you. One of my men will show you to your quarters. Is there anything else you require?"

"If you could point me in the right direction for the town. There is something I need to get tomorrow, before we return."

It was late afternoon when Athos and Porthos made it back to the tavern. The rain had held off, and they'd made good time. Aramis was standing in the doorway. He came out to help them with the horses.

"Is he any better?" asked Athos.

Aramis smiled. "Much. He slept most of yesterday, with a little help. I'm going to have to restock on poppy juice. He's still got a cough, but his fever has gone now."

Porthos grinned. "Has Irene been looking after you both?"

Aramis rolled his eyes. "I'll be glad to get back to Paris for a rest."

Remy was laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been downstairs, but Irene's fussing had eventually got too much for him, and much to Aramis's amusement, he'd actually asked if he could go and lie down. His head only ached a little, his throat was only a little bit sore and scratchy, and he was coughing a lot less. But now he was feeling guilty, as Athos and Porthos had had to leave Aramis behind, and deliver the supplies alone, all because he got sick. The door opened and Athos's head appeared around it. He smiled and came over to sit on the bed, as Remy sat up.

"You look a lot better."

"I feel a lot better. Sorry I got sick, I didn't mean to." He sneezed and grumbled. "I hate being sick."

Athos rolled his eyes and ruffled Remy's hair. "I know you didn't mean to get sick, boy. It's not your fault. We should have noticed sooner that you were feeling sick."

Remy frowned. "Wasn't your fault."

Athos grinned a little thoughtfully. "Well, how about, we agree that it was no-ones fault."

Remy thought for a minute, then nodded. "Ok. Sounds fair to me."

"Come on then, time to eat. I have it on good authority that we need to feed you up. Apparently, you're all skin and bones."

Remy woke early and got dressed quietly, intending to sneak out to see to the horses. However, one creak from a floorboard, and Athos's eyes opened. He yawned and stared at Remy.

"Give me a minute, I'll help you with the horses."

They'd almost finished saddling the last horse when Aramis appeared, looking concerned.

"The pair of you should still be sleeping. I am not picking either of you up if you fall off your horse."

Athos looked at Remy and shrugged. "Worse than a mother hen, this one. As if we'd need to be picked up by him. That's why we have Porthos."

Remy giggled.

After a quick breakfast, they were ready to go. Aramis and Porthos mounted their horses, while Athos rummaged in his saddle bags.

"Looks like rain again. You're going to need this, Remy."

Athos handed a bundle to Remy, who frowned and looked at Aramis and Porthos.

"No idea, Remy." Aramis shifted in his saddle for a better look.

"Me either, although I can hazard a guess," grinned Porthos.

Remy unfastened the bundle and looked in stunned amazement at a cloak. He looked to Athos, confused.

"Should keep you drier and warm," grinned Athos.

Remy was dumbstruck. "Thanks," was all he managed.

Athos ruffled his hair and helped him fasten the cloak on. "Perfect fit."

Remy beamed.

It was getting dark when they made it back to Paris. Without the extra weight from the supplies they'd carried out, they'd made much better time on the way back, saving a full day of travelling. They were all tired and hungry and happy to see the city. They picked up the pace and cantered through the streets, back to the barracks. Remy dismounted before his horse had stopped moving, and took the reins of all four horses, leading them over to the stables.

The Captain stood watching, in disbelief. "You took the boy with you?"

Athos inclined his head. "I told you, we were all tired, especially Porthos. You told me to improvise, so I hired some help."

"And he was helpful," chipped in Aramis.

"Very helpful," agreed Porthos.

The Captain shook his head in wonderment. "And I suppose I'm going to be paying for this."

Athos smiled and shook his head. "We fed him, so yes, you'll be paying for that, but it was my idea, so my responsibility."

The Captain sighed. "He was helpful?"

"Very."

"Definitely."

"Despite getting sick."

Athos and Aramis glared at Porthos, who shrugged. "What? He did get sick, but he was still helpful. Kept that woman from fussing over us and driving us mad. She fussed over Remy instead. He was too tired to care."

"He got sick?" queried the Captain.

Athos tried to look nonchalant. "It was all the rain. He got soaked through and ended up with a fever. It didn't delay us."

"And that's why he's suddenly acquired a cloak?"

Aramis and Porthos both looked at Athos. The Captain rolled his eyes. "Well, at least you took care of him. Alright, get Jasper to finish off seeing to those horses, and get Remy fed. It's nearly dark, so he'd better sleep in our hay loft tonight. And by the time he's ready to leave in the morning, you'll have a full report on my desk so I can pay him for his time. Correct?"

Athos groaned, but agreed.


	10. Chapter 9

The scout rode his horse into the courtyard at high speed and dismounted before the horse had stopped moving, removing his hat and batting it on his leg, causing a cloud of dust to momentarily envelope him. He spotted Remy and made a move to hand him the reins, but Remy shook his head and indicated Lucas, who was running over at high speed, arms wind milling around wildly.

"He's going to scare the horse doing that," remarked Athos.

Remy said nothing. The scout managed to stop the horse from rearing and calmed it down, before handing the reins to Lucas, with orders to keep the horse moving. He nodded to Athos as he hurried off in search of the Captain.

"Athos."

"Grenier. Treville is in his office."

"Thanks."

Lucas attempted to walk the horse forwards, but it was reluctant to move. Porthos wandered over and leant comfortably on the wall to watch.

"Remind me again, how did Lucas get this job?"

Athos chuckled. "He had good references. Apparently."

Porthos snorted. "Not from the horses."

Remy was watching the horse intently as Lucas finally managed to force it to walk forwards a couple of small, faltering steps. It still wasn't happy, tossing it's head around and trying to tug the reins free. Lucas swore at the horse and raised his hand as though to hit it.

"Hey!" Athos rose to his feet and strode towards Lucas, who sullenly muttered under his breath.

Athos glared at him. "We don't mistreat horses here. I've told you that before."

"It's just a scout's horse. And it won't walk forwards," complained Lucas, sulkily.

Athos held his hand out and Lucas reluctantly relinquished the reins, still grumbling under his breath. The horse snorted, but didn't attempt to pull clear as Athos gently stroked its muzzle.

"Come on, fella." Athos led the horse forwards slowly, allowing it to set it's own pace. Remy had moved closer, still watching the horse closely.

"He's lame. Front left."

Athos turned to watch the horse. It did indeed appear to be limping somewhat, reluctant to put any significant weight on his front left leg. Remy stepped in close to the horse and ran his hands down its leg.

He frowned. "Leg seems ok. Might be his foot."

He swapped his stance and tried to get the horse to lift its foot, but the horse wasn't too keen on the idea. Athos slowly led the horse over to a wall and held it there. With nowhere to go, the horse finally allowed Remy to lift his foot.

Remy whistled quietly. "Ouch. That's got to hurt." He dashed into the stables, looking around, and emerging with a cloth and some tools.

Athos watched him, somewhat bemused. "Worked for a blacksmith, have you?"

Remy's face darkened slightly. "I used to help out when he was busy, but his wife didn't like me much." His expression softened and he half smiled. "He has a new helper now."

He coaxed the horse into lifting its foot again as Athos stroked its neck and tried to keep it calm. The horse wasn't happy about Remy messing around with its foot and swung its rear end away from the wall, pushing Remy away.

Porthos wandered over and gently pushed the horses rear back to the wall.

"Try again," grinned Porthos.

Remy busied himself, lifting the horses leg and using his knife and a pair of pincers to tug something free from the foot. The horse snorted and tossed its head around, but Athos held firm, and Porthos kept it against the wall. Remy pulled a small bottle from his pocket and poured some of the contents onto the cloth.

He frowned. "I don't think he's going to like this next bit. It's going to sting."

"Might be an idea not to be holding his foot at the time then, "suggested Athos.

Remy nodded, and placed the cloth on the floor. With a bit of gently coaxing, they managed to make the horse stand on the cloth. As Remy had thought, the horse wasn't keen on this part, and tried to lift its foot clear, but between the three of them, they managed to hold it in place.

"What the hell?" Grenier rejoined them, looking concerned, with the Captain a couple of paces behind him.

"Lame in his front left." Athos indicated the lump of metal on the floor that Remy had pulled from the horses hoof. "Looks like a caltrop to me."

Grenier picked it up and swore under his breath. "I thought he was pulling this last stretch. How did he keep going with this in his foot?"

"It wasn't in too deep," said Remy, wiping his knife and hands on his pants. "It was twisted round. Probably felt uncomfortable rather than painful. Might even hurt more now that it's out. He should be ok in a couple of days."

Grenier groaned. "I still have a fair way to go, and it can't wait a couple of days."

The Captain turned and yelled across the yard. "Lucas. Saddle another horse. Now. And make it a quick one."

Lucas stared blankly at the Captain and looked at the stables behind him, as though hoping a horse would volunteer.

"Try the black one on the end," muttered Remy. Porthos hid a smirk.

"Make it the black one on the end." The Captain turned on his heels and stalked back to his office, throwing a parting shot over his shoulder. "And, Remy, get that horse stabled and take care of it until it's fit to ride."

Remy was working down at the docks again, running errands, fetching and carrying, general leg work. He was small, but fast and reliable. He could usually find a couple of people who were willing to employ him on a temporary basis. He noticed the group of boys arrived and nodded a greeting to their leader. Jacque wasn't bad, as street gang leaders went, and the docks was his territory. He tolerated Remy, despite Remy's frequent refusals to join his gang, and Remy tried not to stick around when they appeared, so that he wasn't competing directly with them for work. He finished the job he was doing, got paid, and decided to head to another part of the city. He was halfway into the market place behind the docks when the other gang appeared. They'd spotted him before he could find something to hide behind.

"Hey, look who it is." The leader of this gang pointed at Remy and jeered. "Donovan reckons you're owed a black eye for not turning up to help Killian as promised."

Remy stood his ground. "I never promised Donovan anything. I don't work for Donovan anymore. I quit, ages ago. It's not my problem if he promised Killian something he couldn't deliver."

One of the younger boys laughed, and was promptly cuffed soundly round the head by one of the bigger boys. He grumbled and kicked at the dirt with his feet. The leader frowned. "That's not the point."

"Yes it is," said Remy, confidently. "Look, Pierre, Donovan knew I wasn't going to be there, but he promised Killian I would be. When I didn't show, Killian got mad at Donovan, so he's looking for someone to blame. Right now, that's me. Maybe tomorrow it'll be your fault. Maybe you hurt me in a fight and I wasn't fit enough to show up. If I have the bruises to prove it, who's Killian going to believe then?"

Pierre screwed his face up, thinking that through.

"I say we just hit him anyway." The rat faced boy had a permanent sneer.

"No. He has a point. I think." Pierre was not convinced, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

"He's not in the gang though, so we ought to do something."

"Well, if he joins, that would be fine, wouldn't it? Come on, Remy. You know you'd be better in a gang, and we're the best there is. Way better than being on your own. We'd look after you. And Killian wants you as well. He pays well, you know he does. Got to be better than lugging boxes around all day."

Remy was trying to work out a way of saying "Not a chance in hell", and struggling to find the right words. He was saved by the appearance of Jacque and his gang. The demeanor of Pierre's gang instantly shifted, grouping closer together and glaring at the other boys.

Pierre strutted to the front. "Hey, Jacque, you must be lost. This is our territory. You know that."

Jacque's gang formed a line, slightly behind him. A couple of them acknowledged Remy briefly with a glance or a grin. A couple of them frowned, but they were concentrating more on Pierre than on Remy. "No, Pierre, this is our territory. Always has been, always will be. You're the ones who are lost. You're on the wrong side of the river. And leave Remy alone."

Pierre laughed. "He's almost a member of our gang already."

Remy rolled his eyes. This was not going to end well, and he was stuck right in the middle. Some of the boys started trading insults and threats, followed by some pushing and shoving, and suddenly, all out war broke out.

Remy punched a couple of Pierres gang, including the rat faced boy, whose nose made a rather satisfying crunching sound under his fist, before ducking, weaving and trying to beat a hasty retreat. Right into a tall Red Guard, with a pointed beard, a stupid twirly moustache, and a hat with a feather in it that was way too big for the hat. He sneered down at Remy contemptuously. Remy glanced around for a way out, and only saw the rifle butt at the last moment, right before it hit him in the head with unnecessary force, turning everything black.

Remy was feeling battered, bruised, and completely fed up. He'd woken up in jail, and it looked like he was stuck here for the foreseeable future. It was cold and dark, and what little food came his way tended to consist of stale, moldy bread and foul tasting water. His ribs ached, his head ached, and his left hand felt like someone had stood on it. He wasn't on his own in jail. The cell he was in had a couple of boys from Jacque's gang and a couple of other boys he didn't recognise, and the cell next to it had about half a dozen of Pierre's gang. According to one of the boys, this happened frequently if two gangs were caught fighting, and they usually kept them a couple of weeks or so before throwing them out. Rumor had it, that if anyone claimed them, they'd be allowed to leave, presumably once a fine had been paid. It was purely a rumor though. None of the boys had anyone to claim them, so they'd never actually known it to happen. He sat with his back to the wall, keeping a wary eye on the other boys, even though they'd been relatively friendly towards him so far.

The two guards appeared in the corridor in front of the bars. Remy squinted against the light of the torch that the taller guard was carrying. There was a third man in the shadows, wearing a hooded cloak, so he couldn't see his face. The hooded man had a quiet discussion with the smaller guard. Remy could have sworn he pressed some money into the guard's hand, but with all the shadows, he couldn't be sure. The hooded man left, and the guards had a mumbled conversation. Again, money seemed to change hands. The taller guard pointed to Remy.

"You, boy. Out."

The smaller guard jangled a huge bunch of keys, searching for the right one. He opened the cell door and beckoned to Remy.

"Your lucky day, boy." The look on his face made Remy think that he was about to be far from lucky. The other boys just stared and a took a couple of steps back from the guard. One even threw Remy a sympathetic glance.

Remy thought for a second. It seemed he was getting out of the cell, possibly the jail, but he wasn't sure what he was getting in to. Still, it had to be better than this. Or at least, it had to offer a better chance of escape. He got up carefully and walked to the cell door. The taller guard grabbed him, forcing his arm roughly up behind his back. He was frogmarched down several dark corridors, pausing only while a door was locked or unlocked. Remy was beginning to think this might not be an improvement on rotting in a cell for a few weeks, especially as his arm was now starting to hurt.

Finally, they passed through a door into a courtyard. Remy blinked against the bright moonlight and took as deep a breath of the fresh night air as his aching ribs would allow. The air in the jail had been heavy, musty and stagnant, and had started to make his throat hurt. It felt good to breath fresh air again. The guard pushed him forwards, releasing his hold. The man in the hooded cloak was in the middle of the courtyard, holding the reins of a horse. Remy heard a door slam behind him and looked over his shoulder. The guards had gone. He turned back to the man with the horse, hoping that it wasn't Killian, or even Donovan. Jail would be better than those two.

"Come on, boy, I haven't got all night."

Remy blinked in surprise and relief. "Athos?"

"Who were you expecting? Now, come on." Athos mounted the horse and reached down to pull Remy up. Remy yelped and bit his lip as his ribs protested. Athos frowned and tucked his cloak around them both. "Injured?"

"Just bruised."

Athos grunted, unconvinced, and turned the horse, riding out of the courtyard with a confident wave of a hand to the guard on the gate. Soon they were back at the Musketeers barracks. Aramis emerged from a doorway to greet them with a yawn.

"You found him then."

"Eventually." Athos dismounted and held his hands up to help Remy down. Under normal circumstances, Remy would have shrugged the help off, but he was tired and aching, and accepted the help gratefully. Aramis frowned, taking in the boy's grubby and dishevelled appearance, the obvious pain he was in, and the large lump on the side of his head.

"He needs cleaning up."

"True," agreed Athos. "He also needs some food, his injuries checking over, and a good nights sleep."

Aramis considered this. "I'll take care of the horse. You get him cleaned up, and I'll find some food."

Remy glared miserably at Athos. "I don't need a bath."

Athos rolled his eyes. "Remy, you are having a bath. You're a mess and you need cleaning up. Non negotiable, boy. Now, get your shirt off."

Athos finished pouring the water into the bath tub, and turned round to see Remy struggling half heartedly to remove his shirt. He sighed and helped him undress, shaking his head at the sight of Remy's bruised ribs and hand.

"Well, this should keep Aramis busy for a while. Come on, get in before it goes cold."

Remy hesitated, still trying to find a way out. Athos sighed, grabbed him gently, and easily lifted him into the tub, noting that despite an initial wriggle, Remy didn't really struggle.

It took a few minutes of scrubbing before Athos decided Remy was clean enough. Remy wasn't about to admit it, but the warm water felt good. Soothing and relaxing. It also felt good to be clean again. Athos lifted Remy out of the bath, wrapping him in a blanket. He rubbed his hair to dry it a little, then half led, half carried him over to a table, sitting him down gently on a chair.

"Better?"

Remy nodded, a little sleepily. "Just tired now."

"Well, as soon as we get some food into you, and Aramis has checked you over, you can get some sleep. There's a bed waiting for you just down the corridor. Now, let's have a look at that hand."

Remy obediently lifted his hand up, and Athos checked it for broken bones, noting the winces and half swallowed yelps.

"Pretty badly bruised. How did you do that?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? Aramis, check his hand, will you. I don't think it's broken."

Aramis put the bowl of stew on the table in front of Remy and took his hand to check it over. "Good job you're right handed."

Remy managed a weak grin, and stared at the stew, while Aramis quickly, yet thoroughly, checked his hand, his ribs and his head.

"Alright, Remy, I'm not sure how you managed it, but it doesn't look like anything's broken. Just badly bruised. You eat while I get some bandages."

Remy ate hungrily. Only when he'd finished did Aramis start to bandage his injuries. Remy yelped a little, but yawned more.

"Time to get some sleep, Remy. We'll talk about how you got in this state in the morning." Athos practically had to carry him to bed.

Remy woke with a start, and yelped in pain as his ribs complained about the sudden movement. He lay back down carefully, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. The pain slowly eased, and he opened his eyes. He was in a small room. The shutters on the windows were closed, but enough light was sneaking in for him to see clearly. It was a small room, clean and sparsely furnished. There was the bed that he was in, two chairs and a small table, and a trunk at the foot of the bed, and that was it. It was just about all there was room for to be honest.

Porthos stuck his head round the half open door. "Ah, you are awake. I thought I heard you. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," admitted Remy.

"Hungry?"

"A bit. Can I get up?"

"Hell, no. You stay there. Aramis will have my hide if I let you out of bed. I'll be back in a minute."

By the time Aramis appeared, Remy was propped up in bed, eating a weak broth, while Porthos was rummaging in the trunk.

"What are you looking for?"

"His shirt."

"Athos took it for mending. It had a few new rips and tears in it."

"That would explain why I can't find it. Well, you're definitely staying in bed until Athos gets back then, Remy."

Remy grumbled a little, but allowed Aramis to check his injuries.

"So how did you end up in this state, Remy," asked Aramis.

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Porthos dropped onto one of the chairs and stared at him. Remy shrugged, and winced. "Alright, so how did you get arrested?"

"Good question." Athos threw his hat and gloves on the table and sat down on the second chair. Aramis stared from Porthos, to Athos, and back again, before rolling his eyes and sitting on the bed.

"There was a fight ..."

Porthos chuckled, but composed himself when Athos shot him a glare.

"Go on, Remy. Where was this fight?"

"Down at the docks, at the market place. There were these two gangs ..."

"Well, that would explain your injuries," commented Aramis, earning himself a glare from Athos.

"Ignore them, Remy. Go on."

"There were these two gangs, and they started fighting, and I just tried getting the hell out."

"Your gang was outnumbered?" That question earned Aramis a baleful glare from both Athos and Remy.

"I'm not in a gang. That was half the problem. I won't join their gangs. One lot tolerate me, the other lot aren't as keen, but once the punches started flying, I was stuck in the middle. I had to get out."

Porthos nodded. "Unusual for a street rat not to be in a gang. Safety in numbers."

Remy grinned a little ruefully. "A fair few of them got arrested too. Numbers didn't help them."

Porthos chuckled. "Good point. So, you were trying to get away before both sides remembered you weren't actually on their side."

Remy nodded. "I nearly made it, but I ran straight into a Red Guard. I don't remember much else after that. Just a blurred rifle butt and I woke up in jail."

Athos leant back in his chair. "You weren't injured in the fight?"

Remy shook his head. "No. I hit a couple of kids, but I managed to avoid getting thumped."

"And you woke up, in jail, with those injuries?"

Remy nodded. Aramis and Porthos were both watching Athos closely.

"You already suspected that, didn't you?" accused Aramis.

Athos shrugged. "Remy's version of events matches what I had already heard down at the docks. Jacque sends his regards by the way, Remy. Said to tell you that you broke Michael's nose with a single punch. He sounded impressed. He also rescued your pack, which is now in the trunk at the foot of the bed, in case you were worried."

Remy stared at him, dumbfounded. "He did? You knew?"

Athos smiled. "I asked around to find out what had happened to you. A few people were only too happy to tell me what they knew. Now, this Red Guard, can you describe him?"

Remy stared at the ceiling, thinking back. "I didn't really have much time to get a good look at him. Tall. Dark hair. Weird pointy beard. Silly moustache, all twirly and poncy. Must take him ages to get it to curl like that. Oh, and a stupidly big feather in his hat."

Athos nodded. Aramis and Porthos exchanged triumphant looks. "Romaine!"


	11. Chapter 10

Aramis made Remy stay in bed all day, much to Remy's annoyance. He did consider getting up anyway, but his clothes weren't in the room, so unless he wanted to run naked through the barracks, there wasn't much he could do. Porthos played cards with him for a while, and Athos decided it was as good a place as any to catch up on some paperwork, so it wasn't so bad. And the following day, he felt a lot better, so maybe Aramis had been right. He was laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, when Athos came in.

"You had breakfast?"

Remy nodded. "Yes, thanks, Porthos brought it. Can I get up now? I'm bored."

Athos smiled. "Aramis said you were pestering him to let you up. Alright, you can get up, but if you feel tired or in pain, straight back to bed. Deal?"

"Deal," agreed Remy, eagerly.

Athos put the bundle he was carrying on the bed. "I got your pants fixed up, but your shirt was beyond repair. I managed to find another one in your size."

Remy looked through the bundle, noting the new patch on the knee of his pants, and pulled out the shirt. It was clean and much less frayed than his old one had been. Remy grinned, then frowned.

"I'll pay you back, and for getting me out of jail too. Not sure how or when, but I will."

Athos raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Remy shrugged. "I know you paid the guards to let me out. I thought they were supposed to let us out if we were claimed though."

Athos chuckled. "I could hardly claim you legitimately, could I, so yes, a few coins changed hands. You can pay me back by doing some jobs for me."

Remy nodded and grinned. "Ok."

"Now, get dressed ... slowly please. It took some convincing for Aramis to approve of you getting out of bed. I'll be the one he gets mad at if you hurt yourself by trying to do too much, too soon."

Remy was bored. He'd played cards with Porthos, draughts with Athos, and Aramis had tried to teach him chess. Completely unsuccessfully. They wouldn't let him help Jasper or stray too far from one of them, and it was starting to annoy him. He was used to doing what he wanted, when he wanted to. He sat quietly, occasionally kicking the table leg, wondering how much more of this he could take.

"The Captain is back." Aramis was staring out of the window. Remy's heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped. He was convinced that the Captain would take a dim view of his recent exploits, and the fact that one of his Musketeers has rescued him from jail. Athos read all that in his face and ruffled his hair reassuringly.

"Come on. Let's go do some explaining."

Remy stared around the Captain's office. It had a massive oak desk, littered with piles of papers, with a chair either side of it, as well as several other chairs around the room, a couple of cupboards, and two large tables, one of which was covered in a map of the city, and the other with manuscripts and books. There were also a couple of bookcases, full of books of varying sizes. Remy wasn't sure he'd ever seen that many books in one place before. The Captain was sat behind his desk. Athos was perched on the edge of the desk, and Remy was stood facing the Captain.

The Captain sighed. "So, let me get this straight. You were in the middle of a fight that you didn't want any part of."

Remy nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"And when you tried to leave, you got hit by a Red Guard."

"Yes, Sir."

The Captain stared at the bruise on the side of Remy's head, and then looked to Athos. "Rifle butt?"

Athos nodded. "Apparently so."

"Witnesses?"

"Several. All in my report."

"Which is quite lengthy, and I will read it thoroughly, later. And his other injuries."

"Kicked in the ribs a few times, and someone stood on his hand, possibly accidentally."

"Anything broken?"

"No, though more by luck than judgement."

"And do we have a name for this Red Guard?"

"Romaine."

The Captain whistled. "Are you sure?"

"Remy described him perfectly, and at least six other people confirmed it."

"Well, I'd say he's gone too far this time."

Athos inclined his head to one side. "I agree, but Romaine is one of the Red's chosen ones. The word of a couple of street rats and stall holders against a Red Guard may not carry enough weight."

The Captain scratched his chin. "There may be a way, if you're willing to help, Remy."

Remy was confused, but nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Remy dismounted from his horse and was momentarily confused as a stable boy took the reins from him. The Captain chuckled.

"Come on, Remy. Stay close."

Treville led the way through a bewildering succession of corridors, until they came to a small room with a view through an open doorway to a courtyard. This was apparently the barracks of the Red Guards, if the amount of Red Guards draped around the place was any indication, but it was vastly different to the Musketeers courtyard. There was a rather impressive water fountain in the middle of the courtyard, formal flower beds to each side amid neatly manicured lawns, and a tree in each of the far corners. The guards were standing around in small groups, apparently admiring their fancy uniforms and hats. None of them were sparring the way the Musketeers did, seemingly preferring to fence to one side of the courtyard, in the shade of one of the wings.

"Alright, Remy, take your time. See if the Red Guard that hit you is out there."

Remy scanned the courtyard slowly. "Over by the fountain, eating."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Right height and build. Can't be two people with that beard and moustache combination. And he laughs the same too. Throws his head back so you can see right up his nose."

The Captain nodded. "Wait here, Remy."

Treville strode confidently into the courtyard and was met with a few jeers from the Red Guards. He ignored them and walked over to the far side, where a portly man was sat in a chair with his legs stretched out comfortably. Remy couldn't hear what they said, but the red guard he'd pointed out was glancing their way with some concern.

"Romaine. Join us, will you?" Although it was phrased as a question, the tone left no doubt that it was an order. Romaine swaggered over. Remy could make out a few words as the discussion got more heated, and it was definitely about the incident at the docks. The Captain was certain Romaine had been at fault, and Romaine was protesting his innocence.

"Remy, come here please." Treville shot him a quick reassuring smile.

Remy took a deep breath and walked steadily across the courtyard to the Captain's side, trying to look more confident than he felt. He was convinced that every Red Guard was staring at him intently, waiting for him to trip up so they could laugh.

"Remy, is this the man that hit you with his rifle butt?" Treville was staring at Romaine, who tried to look nonchalant.

"Yes, Sir."

"How can you be sure?" The portly man looked vaguely amused.

Remy considered the best way to answer. "Well, there aren't that many people with a beard that pointed and a moustache that twirly. Does he have a hat?"

The man frowned. "A hat? Why?"

Remy shrugged. "Well, if he does, I'm willing to bet it's black, with a large brim that has a slight cut to the left side above the eye, and a massive red feather that's way too big for it."

The man stared at him, then roared with laughter. "Romaine, where is your hat."

Romaine was currently looking a little uncertain. "In the barracks, I believe, Sir."

"Well, fetch it. Let's see if the boy has described it correctly."

"That wouldn't prove a thing, Sir. He may have seen my hat at any point in time. And, if I may speak frankly, Sir, this is ridiculous. I was nowhere near the docks that day."

"Hmm. Yes, I see your point. Just because the boy can describe Romaine does not mean Romaine was at the docks that day, or that he struck the boy. So, Treville, do you have any other proof?"

The Captain stroked his chin in thought. Romaine glared evilly at Remy and adjusted his jacket. Remy caught sight of the knife in his belt and grinned.

"How about if he has my knife in his belt?" asked Remy, looking the large man directly in the eye.

"Your knife, boy?"

"Yes, Sir. I had it with me at the docks, but I haven't seen it since. I assumed it was lost. Maybe not, though."

The mans eyes narrowed and he sat upright. "Describe this knife."

Remy held his hands about eight inches apart. "About this big. The handle is the same length as the blade. Blackened wood wrapped in leather, fraying a little at the hilt. I keep meaning to get that replaced. The blade has a scratch in it, about a third of the way down on the back."

The man nodded. "Well, Romaine, there is no way he can know all that unless he's held the knife in his hands and examined it closely. Give me the knife."

"Sir, I must protest …"

"Protest all you like. Give me the knife."

Romaine glared at Remy, but handed the knife to his Captain. The Red's Captain turned it over in his hands, examining it closely."

"A good knife, boy, and exactly as you described it. How can I be sure it's yours, though?"

"I can give you my word that it's his," confirmed Treville. "I've seen him using it, in our stables, when working on a horse a few days before the incident at the docks."

"Care to explain, Romaine?"

Romaine spluttered a little. "I'm not sure I can, Sir."

"Hmm. So, Treville, you tell me one of your men paid to get the boy out of jail?"

"Yes, Bouchert. We had to fix up his injuries and buy him a new shirt as well. We also lost several days work from him as a result."

"Well, this seems to belong to you, boy." Bouchert handed Remy his knife. "And I believe some compensation is in order, Romaine."

Romaine glowered, but produced a few coins and handed them to Treville.

Treville looked at him, completely unimpressed. "That almost covers the cost of the shirt."

Romaine muttered under his breath, but handed over some more coins.

"Hmm. That just about covers the jail fees."

Romaine glowered, but handed over yet more coins. Treville nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Thank you, Romaine. Bouchert, a pleasure as always. Come on, Remy. Best we leave before we outstay our welcome."

He turned and strode out of the courtyard, with Remy close on his heels. Once back in the small room, he stopped and patted Remy gently on the shoulder.

"Well done, Remy. You never mentioned losing your knife."

"I honestly thought it was lost. I never thought that someone might have stolen it, let alone a Red Guard. Good job he did, though."

The Captain chuckled. "True. Alright, let's go give Athos his money."

"He just paid up?" Athos looked surprised.

Treville smiled. "Well, with a little persuasion. Here you are, Remy."

The Captain handed some coins to Remy, who blinked at him.

"Compensation, Remy," explained Treville. "For loss of earnings."

Remy grinned. "I wouldn't have earned that much. It was almost worth it."

Athos rolled his eyes.

The Captain chuckled. "So, I'm told you're looking for a job and a place to sleep."

Remy looked a little uncertainly at Athos, whose face was impassive and unreadable. "Yes, Sir."

"Well, Lucas rarely turns up at weekends, so how about you work here weekends, and help out at other times if Jasper is over worked, and in return you get to carry on sleeping in the room you've been in for the last week."

Remy's face lit up. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I expect that room to be kept neat and tidy, though. And I'll make sure the kitchens know to feed you from time to time as well. Do we have a deal?"

Remy grinned broadly. "Yes, Sir."

Treville threw a coin at Athos, who caught it deftly. "And get his knife fixed. The handle needs rebinding."


	12. Chapter 11

"Time to eat. Come on, Remy."

Athos was heading out of the barracks without even looking round to see if Remy was following, but he heard the scuffling of footsteps as Remy caught him up and fell into stride beside him. They soon arrived at a tavern that Remy had never been to before. Not that he frequented a lot of taverns.

The inside of the tavern was clean and quite well lit, with tables and chairs dotted around the room, far enough apart from each other to offer some chance for private conversation. Athos ushered Remy towards a vacant corner table and headed to the counter. The woman behind the bar seemed somewhat harassed.

"Busy day, Katrina?"

She rolled her eyes. "Understatement of the decade. My kitchen boy is sick, and my serving girl is visiting family, so, naturally, everyone wants to eat. My cook is overworked and underpaid, apparently. I have orders piling up, customers waiting to be fed, and more people keep arriving. I swear, this is the busiest day I've had all month. So, what can I get you, Athos? Wine, as usual?" She was already reaching for a bottle.

He shook his head with a rueful smile. "Well, yes, wine would be good, but I was actually hoping for food, for me and the boy." Athos indicated Remy with a flick of his head.

Katrina peered over his shoulder. "And just where did you find him?"

"He sort of fell off a roof."

She raised her eyebrows, but smiled when she saw the amused glint in his eye. It was a glint that was sadly missing most days, and the sight of it lifted her heart. She had a soft spot for Athos, particularly since he'd been instrumental in persuading her sad excuse of a husband that sticking around her tavern to drink her profits was a really bad idea that he should rethink at his earliest convenience.

"Well, I can recommend the stew or the chicken. That's about all we can cope with today, and there will be a longer delay than usual I'm afraid."

There was a loud crash of crockery and a hammering noise from the kitchen. "Ah, excuse me, I think the next meals are ready. Either that, or the cook has just killed someone."

Athos stopped her with a movement of his hand. "And with your wrist, exactly how many plates can you carry at a time?"

She pulled her sleeve self consciously over her bandaged wrist. "Well, just the one. That's part of the problem."

Athos looked over his shoulder. Remy was staring at the ceiling, kicking a chair leg, and looking utterly bored.

"Remy, want to do me a favor?"

Remy came over to the bar and looked at him questioningly.

"Katrina needs some help. She'll show you what to do, ok?"

"Ok."

Remy was kept busy, delivering food to tables, clearing plates, and chopping herbs. Athos kept a watchful eye on him from the corner. He was polite to the customers, but quiet, and, Athos suddenly realised, actually quite shy.

"Damn, Katrina, your help is getting smaller." The man sat back in his chair, laughing, as Remy placed a couple of plates on the table. "Mine's the chicken, boy."

Remy looked him squarely in the eye. Athos found himself holding his breath.

"Well, I'm pretty sure one of these plates has chicken on it. Afraid I don't know who ordered what, I'm just helping out. Oh, and as for being small, I prefer the term, vertically challenged."

The man stared at him, dumbfounded, then nearly fell off his chair laughing. His three friends collapsed with laughter as well. Athos breathed out with a grin and an approving nod as Remy glanced in his direction. The man noticed the glance, and looked round.

"Athos! Is this one with you?"

Athos smiled and nodded. "Yes, Lucien, he is."

"Well, he's got balls, I'll give him that."

Remy grinned mischievously. "Well, I did have the last time I checked."

Lucien roared with laughter again, and Remy went back to the kitchen to fetch the next two plates. When he returned, Lucien and Athos were chatting and laughing. Remy placed the plates on the table and beat a hasty retreat. The next two plates were for him and Athos. He sat down to eat, and Athos ruffled his hair.

"Good work, boy."

Remy grinned.

Athos went to the counter to pay. Katrina smiled at him.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure which roof he fell off, but he's a nice young man. Polite, funny, and a quick learner. Where does he work?"

Athos chuckled. "He works where he can find work during the week, and at weekends, he works in our barracks. Why? What did you have in mind?"

Katrina wrinkled her nose up in thought. "I'm not sure when my kitchen boy will be fit to work, and my serving girl isn't back until Friday. I thought, maybe, I could borrow him for the week. If that's alright with him."

Athos looked over his shoulder. Remy was already bored again and was looking around the tavern with undisguised curiosity. "Remy. Want a job for the week?"

Remy nodded. "Always. Where?"

"Here. Katrina thinks you'd be useful."

Remy joined them at the bar. "Really?"

"Yes, really. She doesn't know you well yet though, so she'll soon change her mind."

Elosie thumped him in the arm. Athos feigned pain while Remy giggled.

"Seriously, Remy, if you could help me out this week, I'd be grateful. I'll feed you and pay you as well."

Remy nodded eagerly. "Ok, deal."

Athos rolled his eyes. "Your negotiation skills need some work, boy."

Katrina glared at him. "I'll pay him a fair rate, and you know it."

"Speaking of pay." Athos dropped some coins onto the counter. "That should cover it."

Katrina smiled. "Indeed. Thank you, Athos."

The pair turned to leave, but Katrina called Remy back.

"Remy, here, this is yours." She handed him a few small coins.

He looked at her, confused. "What's that for?"

"Well, partly for helping out, and partly it's the tips you earned from my customers. Especially Lucien. He said you were the best entertainment we've had in ages."

Athos laughed loudly.

It was dusk when Remy reached the smithy. He looked around the yard, noting the cart loaded with various crates and boxes. The forge was not lit, which was unusual. The smith was stood to one side of the yard, packing various tools into boxes. He nodded and smiled a greeting to Remy, and headed into the stables. Jamie came running out of the house and threw himself at Remy. Remy grinned and hugged him back, before carefully extricating himself. They spoke quietly.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" asked Remy.

Jamie nodded. "First thing in the morning. Out to Melun. It's a fair sized forge and he has family near by. You should come with us."

Remy shook his head. "His wife still doesn't like me. Besides, this is a new start for you. You don't need me cramping your style." He ruffled the smaller boy's hair playfully, noting that Jamie was no longer that much smaller than him. He was growing fast.

Jamie nodded wistfully. "I know, but I wish you were coming."

"I'll come visit you sometime. I promise." Remy had no idea how he was going to keep that promise, but he meant it.

He barely noticed his surroundings at all on the way back to the barracks. It was only when Pierre stepped out in front of him that he realised he was surrounded by about half a dozen boys, most of whom were bigger than him. He kicked himself mentally for not paying attention.

"Ah. Remy. Just the person I was looking for. You broke Michaels nose."

Remy grinned. "I always said his face needed improving."

Pierre glared at him. "That's not funny. Some of my gang ended up in jail."

"So did I."

"You got out though."

"Well, by now, I reckon they'll be out too."

"That's not the point."

"There was a point to this?"

Pierre was getting exasperated. "Look, you started that fight."

"No I didn't. You started it. You were on Jacques turf, insulting him and trying to takeover. You started it."

"I did not."

"You did too."

"Not."

"Did."

"Not.

"Did."

"Oh, this is ridiculous. I'm giving you one last chance. Join my gang."

"And if I don't." Remy knew the answer, but he asked anyway, stalling for time. A couple of the boys were either amused or bored by proceedings and had moved a little apart from each other. If he was quick, and lucky, he might be able to make a break for it.

"You're either with us, or against us. Your choice."

Remy tilted his head to one side, apparently thinking this through. One of the boys turned to his neighbor, laughing at Remy's predicament. Remy took his opportunity and ran at the boy, pushing him over and running down the alley as fast as he could. He wasn't sure he could outrun them all, but if he could lose a few it would help. Otherwise, he was going to be in a whole heap of pain when they caught him.


End file.
